Part 10 (1/2)

”Vell, I ain't had it long enough to 'ave made up my mind on the p'int, but you may call me wot you please, granny, s'long as you don't swear.

I'll answer to Robin, or Bobin, or Dobin, or n.o.bin, or Flogin--no, by the way, I won't answer to Flogin. I don't like that. But why call me Robin?”

”Ah!” sighed the old woman, ”because I once had a dear little son so named. He died when he was about your age, and your kindly ways are so like his that--”

”Hallo, granny!” interrupted Slidder, standing up with a look of intense surprise, ”are you took bad?”

”No. Why?”

”'Cause you said suthin' about _my ways_ that looks suspicious.”

”Did I, Robin? I didn't mean to. But as I was saying, I'd like to call you Robin because it reminds me of my little darling who is now in heaven. Ah! Robin was so gentle, and loving, and tender, and true, and kind. He _was_ a good boy!”

A wheezing, which culminated in another feeble sneeze, here silenced the poor old thing.

For some minutes after that Slidder devoted himself to vigorous stirring of the gruel, and to repressed laughter, which latter made him very red in the face, and caused his shoulders to heave convulsively. At last he sought relief in occasional mutterings.

”On'y think!” he said, quoting Mrs Willis's words, in a scarcely audible whisper, ”`so gentle, an' lovin', an' tender, an' true, an'

kind'--an' sitch a good boy too--an' _my_ kindly ways is like _his_, are they? Well, well, Mrs W, it's quite clear that a loo-natic asylum must be your native 'ome arter this.”

”What are you muttering about, Robin?”

”Nuffin' partikler, granny. On'y suthin' about your futur' prospec's.

The gruel's ready, I think. Will you 'ave it now, or vait till you get it?”

”There--even in your little touches of humour you're so like him!” said the old woman, with a mingled smile and sneeze, as she slowly rose to a sitting posture, making a cone of the bedclothes with her knees, on which she laid her thin hands.

”Come now, old 'ooman,” said Slidder seriously, ”if you go on jokin'

like that you'll make me larf and spill your gruel--p'raps let it fall bash on the floor. There! Don't let it tumble off your knees, now; I'd adwise you to lower 'em for the time bein'. Here's the spoon; it ain't as bright as I could wish, but you can't expect much of pewter; an' the napkin--that's your sort; an' the bit of bread--which it isn't too much for a 'ealthy happet.i.te. Now then, granny, go in and win!”

”_So_ like,” murmured the old woman, as she gazed in Slidder's face.

”And it is so good of you to give up your play and come to look after a helpless old creature like me.”

”Yes, it _is_ wery good of me,” a.s.sented the boy, with an air of profound gravity; ”I was used to sleep under a damp archway or in a wet cask, _now_ I slumbers in a 'ouse by a fire, under a blankit. Vunce on a time I got wittles any'ow--sometimes didn't get 'em at all; _now_ I 'ave 'em riglar, as well as good, an' 'ot. In wot poets call `the days gone by'--an' nights too, let me tell you--I wos kicked an' cuffed by everybody, an' 'unted to death by bobbies. _Now_ I'm--let alone!

'Eavenly condition--let _alone_! sometimes even complimented with such pleasant greetings as `Go it, Ginger!' or `Does your mother know you're out?' Oh yes, granny! I made great sacrifices, I did, w'en I come 'ere to look arter _you_!”

Mrs Willis smiled, sneezed, and began her gruel. Slidder, who looked at her with deep interest, was called away by a knock at the door.

Opening it he beheld a tall footman, with a parcel in his hand.

”Does a Mrs Willis live here?” he asked.

”No,” replied Slidder; ”a Mrs Willis don't live here, but _the_ Mrs Willis--the on'y one vurth speakin' of--does.”

”Ah!” replied the man, with a smile--for he was an amiable footman--”and I suppose you are young Slidder?”

”I am _Mister_ Slidder, sir! And I would 'ave you remember,” said the urchin, with dignity, ”that every Englishman's 'ouse is his castle, and that neither imperence nor flunkies 'as a right to enter.”

”Indeed!” exclaimed the man, with affected surprise, ”then I'm afraid this castle can't be a strong one, or it ain't well guarded, for `Imperence' got into it somehow when _you_ entered.”