"
"None o' yer sauce, youngster," said Harris, passing on.
"I don't mean the least sauce in life, master," said the red-haired boy,
still in the most humble and gentle tone. "I only thought ef we were
goin' in the same direction we might p'rhaps cheer each other up."
"You're a likely youngster, you ere," he said, looking down at him with
the grimmest of smiles.
"Yus, my mother says as I'm well grown for my hage," replied Pickles;
and then, keeping pace with the tall man, he began to whistle softly.
Harris returned to his interrupted thoughts, and soon forgot the small
boy, who had to run to keep up with his long strides. Suddenly the
little boy exclaimed in a shrill, eager treble:
"I say, mister!"
"Wot now, young 'un?"
"You ain't of a wery obleeging turn, be yer? You couldn't help me, now,
ter find a guilty party?"
"You seems a wery rum chap," said Harris rather crossly.
"I don't know nothink 'bout yer guilty parties. There, be off, can't
yer!"
"I'll be off in a twinkle, master. I ain't rum a bit; my mother allers
said as I wor a real quiet boy; but when my heart is full to bustin' it
seems a relief to talk to a body, and you, tho' yer puts on bein'
fierce, have a kind nature."
"Now, what hever do yer mean by that?"
"Master, you must furgive a wery timid and heasily repulsed boy; but it
ain't possible, even fur one so known to be frightened as me, to be
feared of yer.
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