My Friend Smith Part 56

"Whatever's the matter with you?" I asked, when this performance had been going on for some time "Oh my!--ain't it a game?" he chuckled.

"What's a game?" I demanded.

"Why--oh, ain't you a flat, though?--why, them there boots!"

"What boots? Why can't you talk sense?"

"Why, that there bloke's boots. When I was a-s.h.i.+nin' of 'em, if the sole of one on 'em don't come clean off!" he cried, with a grin.

"I don't see anything so very amusing in that," I replied.

"He's gone off to get 'em sewed on," continued the boy, beaming all over; "and he's a-coming back this way to show me. Bless you, they'll never sew that there sole on. The upper wouldn't hold it--you see if it does."

"He will have to get a new pair," I said.

"Why, he ain't _got_ the browns. He's a-saving up, but it'll be a month afore he's got the bra.s.s."

Here Billy positively laughed, so that I felt strongly inclined to give him a box on the ear for his levity.

"And it's been a-rainin' all day," continued he, jocularly "and the streets is all one marsh of muck."

"Poor fellow!" said I. "I wish I could lend him a pair of mine."

"Ga on!" cried Billy, scornfully, dropping on his knees before his box.

"I say, guv'nor," said he, in a sudden mysterious tone, "can you keep it mum?"

"Yes--what?" I asked.

He looked carefully up the street and then down, and then all round. No one was near. He moved so as to let the light of a neighbouring lamp- post s.h.i.+ne full on the pavement, as with jubilant face he lifted up his box and disclosed--a pair of new double-soled lace boots!

"Them's for _him_," he said, in an excited whisper.

"For him? Why, Billy, wherever did they come from?"

His grimy face turned up to mine all aglow with pride and triumph as he answered, "Stole 'em!"

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

HOW I FOUND THAT HOPE DEFERRED MAKES THE HEART SICK.

The reader may picture my horror and astonishment on discovering Billy's secret. And the strangest part of it was that the graceless youth appeared to be utterly unconscious that he had done anything wrong. On the contrary, his jubilant face and triumphant voice showed plainly that he considered he had done a fine--a splendid thing.

I endeavoured to reason with him; he flared up as if I were trying to defraud Jack Smith of his new boots. I warned him of the punishment that would follow if he were caught. He gloried in the risk he ran. I told him it was wicked to steal--even for other persons. He retorted, "It wasn't no concern of mine."

Altogether it seemed hopeless to disenchant him with his exploit, and I therefore left him, wholly at a loss to make out this strange puzzle of a boy.

I was still more perplexed when, next morning, Jack Smith appeared at the office wearing the identical new pair of boots which had been the cause of all my horror!

I waited impatiently for the hours to pa.s.s, when I should be at liberty to pay my usual visit to Billy.

He was sitting there grimly, unlike his usual manner, evidently expecting me.

"Well," said I, "what have you done with those boots?"

"'Tain't no concern of yourn!"

"But he was wearing them to-day."

"In course he was!" said Billy, brightening a little.

"Did you tell him you had--had stolen them?"

"Yaas," replied the boy, gruffly.

"And he took them?" said I, in astonishment.

"Ain't you saw them on 'im?" demanded he, evidently disliking this catechism.

"Billy," said I, "I can't understand it."

"You ain't no call to!" was the polite reply; "'tain't no concern or yourn."

"It is my concern if other people are robbed," I said. "Don't you know, if I chose, I could fetch a policeman and get you locked up?"

"In course you could! Why don't yer?"

Was there ever such a hopeless young scamp?

"Whose shop did you take them from?" I asked.

"Trotter's, aside of our court. Go and tell him!" replied he, scornfully.

"How would you like any one to steal away one of your brushes?"

"I'd give 'em a topper!"

"But that's just what you've done to Trotter," I argued.

"Well, why don't you fetch him to give me a topper?" he replied.

I gave it up. There was no arguing with a boy like this. If there had been, there would have been no further opportunity that night, for as I stood by, puzzling in my mind what to say to bring home to the graceless youth a sense of his iniquity, he began picking up his brushes and shouldering his box.

"Where are you going so early?" I asked.

"Don't you like to know?" retorted he.