“The very man!” said Billings: “a young, fair-haired man, who came here with the child, and a dragoon sergeant.”
“Count de Galgenstein by name, who, on the point of death, recommended the infant to me.”
“And did he pay you seven years' boarding?” said Mr. Billings, who was quite alive at the very idea.
“Alas, sir, not a jot! He died, sir, six hundred pounds in my debt; didn't he, Ensign?”
“Six hundred, upon my secred honour! I remember when he got into the house along with the poli—”
“Psha! what matters it?” here broke out Mr. Wood, looking fiercely at the Ensign. “Six hundred pounds he owes me: how was he to pay you? But he told me to take charge of this boy, if I found him; and found him I have, and WILL take charge of him, if you will hand him over.”
“Send our Tom!” cried Billings. And when that youth appeared, scowling, and yet trembling, and prepared, as it seemed, for another castigation, his father, to his surprise, asked him if he was willing to go along with those gentlemen, or whether he would be a good lad and stay with him.
Mr. Tom replied immediately, “I won't be a good lad, and I'd rather go to —— than stay with you!”
“Will you leave your brothers and sisters?” said Billings, looking very dismal.
“Hang my brothers and sisters—I hate 'em; and, besides, I haven't got any!”