Dusty Diamonds Cut and Polished by Robert Michael Ballantyne (i am reading a book TXT) 📖

won't 'ave your money at no price."

Saying which he turned abruptly round and walked away.

"Boy, boy, _boy_!" called the old lady in a voice so entreating, though tremulous, that Bobby felt constrained to return.

"You're a most remarkable boy," she said, putting the shilling back into her purse.

"I'm sorry to say, marm, that you're not the on'y indiwidooal as 'olds that opinion."

"What do you mean by your conduct, boy?"

"I mean, marm, that I'm wery 'ard up. _Uncommon_ 'ard up; that I've tried to git vork an' can't git it, so that I'm redooced to beggary. But, I ain't a 'ighway robber, marm, by no means, an' don't want to frighten you hout o' your money if you ain't willin' to give it."

The little tremulous old lady was so pleased with this reply that she took half-a-crown out of her purse and put it into the boy's hand. He looked at her in silent surprise.

"It ain't a _copper_, marm!"

"I know that. It is half-a-crown, and I willingly give it you because you are an honest boy."

"But, marm," said Bobby, still holding out the piece of silver on his palm, "I _ain't_ a honest boy. I'm a thief!"

"Tut, tut, don't talk nonsense; I don't believe you."

"Vel now, this beats all that I ever did come across. 'Ere's a old 'ooman as I tells as plain as mud that I'm a thief, an' nobody's better able to give a opinion on that pint than myself, yet she _won't_ believe it!"

"No, I won't," said the old lady with a little nod and a smile, "so, put the money in your pocket, for you're an honest boy."

"Vell, it's pleasant to 'ear that, any'ow," returned Bobby, placing the silver coin in a vest pocket which was always kept in repair for coins of smaller value.

"Where do you live, boy? I should like to come and see you."

"My residence, marm, ain't a mansion in the vest-end. No, nor yet a willa in the subarbs. I'm afear'd, marm, that I live in a district that ain't quite suitable for the likes of you to wisit. But--"

Here Bobby paused, for at the moment his little friend Tim Lumpy recurred to his memory, and a bright thought struck him.

"Well, boy, why do you pause?"

"I was on'y thinkin', marm, that if you wants to befriend us poor boys-- they calls us waifs an' strays an' all sorts of unpurlite names--you've on'y got to send a sov, or two to Miss Annie Macpherson, 'Ome of Hindustry, Commercial Street, Spitalfields, an' you'll be the means o' doin' a world o' good--as I 'eard a old gen'l'm with a white choker on say the wery last time I was down there 'avin' a blow out o' bread an' soup."

"I know the lady and the Institution well, my boy," said the old lady, "and will act on your advice, but--"

Ere she finished the sentence Bobby Frog had turned and fled at the very top of his speed.

"Stop! stop! stop!" exclaimed the old lady in a weakly shout.

But the "remarkable boy" would neither stop nor stay. He had suddenly caught sight of a policeman turning into the lane, and forthwith took to his heels, under a vague and not unnatural impression that if that limb of the law found him in possession of a half-crown he would refuse to believe his innocence with as much obstinacy as the little old lady had refused to believe his guilt.

On reaching home he found his mother alone in a state of amused agitation which suggested to his mind the idea of Old Tom.

"Wot, bin at it again, mother?"

"No, no, Bobby, but somethin's happened which amuses me much, an' I can't keep it to myself no longer, so I'll tell it to you, Bobby."

"Fire away, then, mother, an' remember that the law don't compel no one to criminate hisself."

"You know, Bob, that a good while ago our Matty disappeared. I saw that the dear child was dyin' for want o' food an' warmth an' fresh air, so I thinks to myself, `why shouldn't I put 'er out to board wi' rich people for nothink?'"

"A wery correct notion, an' cleverer than I gave you credit for. I'm glad to ear it too, for I feared sometimes that you'd bin an' done it."

"Oh! Bobby, how could you ever think that! Well, I put the baby out to board with a family of the name of Twitter. Now it seems, all unbeknown to me, Mrs Twitter is a great helper at the George Yard Ragged Schools, where our Hetty has often seen her; but as we've bin used never to speak about the work there, as your father didn't like it, of course I know'd nothin' about Mrs Twitter bein' given to goin' there. Well, it seems she's very free with her money and gives a good deal away to poor people." (She's not the only one, thought the boy.) "So what does the Bible-nurse do when she hears about poor Hetty's illness but goes off and asks Mrs Twitter to try an' git her a situation."

"`Oh! I know Hetty,' says Mrs Twitter at once, `That nice girl that teaches one o' the Sunday-school classes. Send her to me. I want a nurse for our baby,' that's for Matty, Bob--"

"What! _our_ baby!" exclaimed the boy with a sudden blaze of excitement.

"Yes--our baby. She calls it _hers_!"

"Well, now," said Bobby, after recovering from the fit of laughter and thigh-slapping into which this news had thrown him, "if this don't beat cockfightin' all to nuffin'! why, mother, Hetty'll know baby the moment she claps eyes on it."

"Of course she will," said Mrs Frog; "it is really very awkward, an' I can't think what to do. I'm half afraid to tell Hetty."

"Oh! don't tell her--don't tell her," cried the boy, whose eyes sparkled with mischievous glee. "It'll be sich fun! If I 'ad on'y the chance to stand be'ind a door an' see the meetin' I wouldn't exchange it--no not for a feed of pork sassengers an' suet pud'n. I must go an' tell this to Tim Lumpy. It'll bust 'im--that's my on'y fear, but I must tell 'im wotever be the consikences."

With this stern resolve, to act regardless of results, Bob Frog went off in search of his little friend, whose departure for Canada had been delayed, from some unknown cause, much to Bob's satisfaction. He found Tim on his way to the Beehive, and was induced not only to go with him, but to decide, finally, to enter the Institution as a candidate for Canada. Being well-known, both as to person and circumstances, he was accepted at once; taken in, washed, cropped, and transformed as if by magic.


CHAPTER SIXTEEN.


SIR RICHARD VISITS THE BEEHIVE, AND SEES MANY SURPRISING THINGS.

"My dear Mrs Loper," said Mrs Twitter over a cup of tea, "it is very kind of you to say so, and I really do think you are right, we have done full justice to our dear wee Mita. Who would ever have thought, remembering the thin starved sickly child she was the night that Sam brought her in, that she would come to be such a plump, rosy, lovely child? I declare to you that I feel as if she were one of my own."

"She is indeed a very lovely infant," returned Mrs Loper. "Don't you think so, Mrs Larrabel?"

The smiling lady expanded her mouth, and said, "very."

"But," continued Mrs Twitter, "I really find that the entire care of her is too much for me, for, although dear Mary assists me, her studies require to be attended to, and, do you know, babies interfere with studies dreadfully. Not that I have time to do much in that way at present. I think the Bible is the only book I really study now, so, you see, I've been thinking of adding to our establishment by getting a new servant;--a sort of nursery governess, you know,--a cheap one, of course. Sam quite agrees with me, and, as it happens, I know a very nice little girl just now--a very very poor girl--who helps us so nicely on Sundays in George Yard, and has been recommended to me as a most deserving creature. I expect her to call to-night."

"Be cautious, Mrs Twitter," said Mrs Loper. "These _very_ poor girls from the slums of Whitechapel are sometimes dangerous, and, excuse me, rather dirty. Of course, if you know her, that is some security, but I would advise you to be very cautious."

"Thank you, my dear," said Mrs Twitter, "I usually am very cautious, and will try to be so on this occasion. I mean her to be rather a sort of nursery governess than a servant.--That is probably the girl."

She referred to a rather timid knock at the front door. In another second the domestic announced Hetty Frog, who entered with a somewhat shy air, and seemed fluttered at meeting with unexpected company.

"Come in, Hetty, my dear; I'm glad to see you. My friends here know that you are a helper in our Sunday-schools. Sit down, and have a cup of tea. You know why I have sent for you?"

"Yes, Mrs Twitter. It--it is very kind. Our Bible-nurse told me, and I shall be so happy to come, because--but I fear I have interrupted you. I--I can easily come back--"

"No interruption at all, my dear. Here, take this cup of tea--"

"And a crumpet," added Mrs Larrabel, who sympathised with the spirit of hospitality.

"Yes, take a crumpet, and let me hear about your last place."

Poor Hetty, who was still very weak from her recent illness, and would gladly have been excused sitting down with two strangers, felt constrained to comply, and was soon put at her ease by the kindly tone and manner of the hostess. She ran quickly over the chief points of her late engagements, and roused, without meaning to do so, the indignation of the ladies by the bare mention of the wages she had received for the amount of work done.

"Well, my dear," said the homely Mrs Twitter, "we won't be so hard on you here. I want you to assist me with my sewing and darning--of which I have a very great deal--and help to take care of baby."

"Very well, ma'am," said Hetty, "when do you wish me to begin my duties?"

"Oh! to-morrow--after breakfast will do. It is too late to-night. But before you go, I may as well let you see the little one you are to have charge of. I hear she is awake."

There could be no doubt upon that point, for the very rafters of the house were ringing at the moment with the yells which issued from an adjoining room.

"Come this way, Hetty."

Mrs Loper and Mrs Larrabel, having formed a good opinion of the girl, looked on with approving smiles. The smiles changed to glances of surprise, however, when Hetty, having looked on the baby, uttered a most startling scream, while her eyes glared as though she saw a ghostly apparition.

Seizing