“No. You are going home first, with me.”
The boy began to cry again.
“Mother will beat me, sir, if I go back without the medicine.”
“I will take care that your mother doesn’t beat you. I am a doctor myself; and I want to see the lady before we get the medicine.”
The announcement of my profession appeared to inspire the boy with a certain confidence. But he still showed no disposition to accompany me to his mother’s house.
“Do you mean to charge the lady anything?” he asked. “The money I’ve got on the ring isn’t much. Mother won’t like having it taken out of her rent.”
“I won’t charge the lady a farthing,” I answered.
The boy instantly got into the cab. “All right,” he said, “as long as mother gets her money.”
Alas for the poor! The child’s education in the sordid anxieties of life was completed already at ten years old!
We drove away.