Part 33 (2/2)
”Yes, he's my grandfather. I'm Sammy Lee.”
”He's a licensed victualler, retired,” Beth repeated, drawing upon her excellent verbal memory.
”Yes,” said Sammy. ”What's yours?”
”I haven't one.”
”What's your father?”
”He's dead too.”
”What was he?”
”He was a gentleman.”
”A retired gentleman?”
”No,” said Beth, ”an officer and a gentleman.”
”Oh,” said Sammy. ”My father's dead too. He was a retired gentleman.”
”What's a retired gentleman?” Beth asked.
”Don't you know?” Sammy exclaimed. ”I thought everybody knew that!
When you make a fortune you retire from business. Then you're a retired gentleman.”
”But gentlemen don't go into business,” Beth objected.
”What do they do then?” Sammy retorted.
”They have professions or property.”
”It's all the same,” said Sammy.
”It isn't,” Beth contradicted.
”Yah! _you_ don't know,” said Sammy, laughing; and then he ran on, being late for his dinner.
The discussion had been carried on with broad smiles, and when he left her, Beth hugged herself, and glowed again, and was glad in the thought of him. But it was not his conversation so much as his appearance that she dwelt upon--his round blue eyes, his bright fair curly hair, his rosy cheeks. ”He is beautiful! he is beautiful!” she exclaimed; then added upon reflection, ”_And I never thought a boy beautiful before._”
The next day she was making rhymes about him in the acting-room, and forgot the time, so that she missed him in the morning; but when he left school in the afternoon she was at the window, and she saw him trotting up the street as hard as his little legs could carry him.
”Where were you at dinner-time?” he said.
”How funny!” she exclaimed in surprise and delight.
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