“But you went to the Poor Law schools surely. Did you run away?”
“Yes,” said Bobbie ruefully. “And I wish now I hadn’t. Can I trouble you for a glass of water, sir?”
“Like some lemonade?” asked Myddleton West.
“So long as it’s moist, sir, and there’s plenty of it, I don’t mind what it is.”
“And you’re not getting on well as an independent man?”
“I’m getting on,” said Bobbie, holding up the glass with a trembling hand, “pretty awful.” He drank and smacked his lips appreciatively, “Ah!” he said, “that’s something like!”
“Eat slowly.”
“Does it matter if I finish the bread, sir?”
“I shall be disappointed if you don’t.”
“Then rather’n cause you any annoyance,” said Bobbie with reviving spirits, “I’ll undertake to clear it all up.”