"To use one of the vulgarisms familiar to your class, my friend," interposed Sir Leopold, "I am afraid that your statement won't wash."
"It'll wash a lump better than some er yer spoutings," retorted Mr. Donah, with some indignation. "Wot's the good er tellin' a man one minute 'e's yer bruvver an' 'as a right ter share everyfink wiv yer, an' lockin' 'im up the nex' fer 'elpin' 'isself? There, I've 'ad me little jaw; now send fer the bloomin amberlance."
Sir Leopold Kershaw was thinking very hard indeed. It would be too much to say that he was in any sense converted; such sudden conversions are rare. But he had a wholesome dread of seeing his principles derided or himself made a laughing-stock; and Mr. Donah's remarkably caustic mode of speech would, he felt, suit the humour of the evening papers to a nicety. Sir Leopold had a mental vision of himself prosecuting in a police-court, and writhing under Mr. Donah's remarks in defence of his crime—the while busy reporters scribbled as if for their lives. Moreover, the man, to do him justice, had a certain honesty of purpose beneath all his ponderous phrases; his only fault lay in the fact that he did not, in any sense, understand the class about whom he talked so much. After a moment or two of thought he sternly dismissed the whole of the servants, cautioning them against chattering about the matter for the present; and was left alone in the room with his little son and Mr. Donah.
"Now, Dockery: I think you said that was your name——"
"C'ristened Sam, at Sin George's in the Borough, on a Toosday—wiv me a 'owlin' proper an' bitin' the parson's little finger," broke in Mr. Dockery.
"Well, Dockery, the circumstances attending your offence are somewhat peculiar, and I am disposed to take a lenient view of the matter. I am impelled to this course by the remembrance that my son is, to an extent, concerned in the affair"—Sir Leopold Kershaw felt that he must really make an excuse of some kind or other—"and I am unwilling that he should imagine that the principles I have so strongly laid down in his hearing are sentiments merely, and that I am not prepared to carry them out when opportunity occurs. I deny your right to purloin my property, but I will have inquiry made into your case, and if I find that you are really deserving I will carry my principles into effect. Leave me your name and address—and then go."
Sam Dockery looked all about him for a moment in sheer amazement, put his hat on, and then took it off in a great hurry; took those queer little dancing steps of his, first backwards and then forwards, made a feint of squaring up to Teddy, and finally put his arm before his eyes and broke into unmistakable tears.
"Yer 'Ighness," he observed, in a shaky voice, when he had somewhat recovered, "parss no rude remarks! This is me one an' only; I was thinkin' of the nipper an' of 'ow 'e might 'ave bin wivaht 'is daddy fer a munf er two. Guv'nor"—he turned to Sir Leopold—"I've sed a few fings wot I didn't orter; let it parss. Yer ain't sich a bad sort as yer look—an' Gawd knows yer didn't make yer own chivvy! Ask for Sam Dockery dahn in Dock's Buildings, an' anyone will direck yer to me 'umble cot. An' I'll interdooce yer to the missis an' the nipper."
Despite his levity Mr. Dockery appeared to find some difficulty in getting out of the door. Sir Leopold—amazing man!—opened the hall-door himself, and Teddy fancied he heard the quick chink of money. Curiously, too, Sir Leopold, when he came back into the dining-room, wore a smile on his usually stern face, and told Teddy, in quite a pleasant tone of voice, to "cut away to bed."
Nor did Sir Leopold Kershaw forget his promise. Sam Dockery and his wife were startled the very next day by a visit from the great man himself, accompanied by "'is Ighness" and by a footman bearing a hamper. Nor was this all: for, a lodge-keepership falling vacant on Sir Leopold's country estate, Sam and his wife and the "nipper" were installed in it in comfort; on which occasion Mr. Dockery gave himself airs in Duke's Buildings, before his departure, and informed all and sundry that he was going down to his country house "ter pot the bloomin' dicky-birds."