red coats
ridin' on horses, with spotted dawgs, and motors as run you down and
take your 'ead off afore you know you're dead if you don't look alive.
Adventures? I should think so!"
"Ah!" said Dickie, and a full silence fell between them.
"Tired?" asked Mr. Beale presently.
"Just a tiddy bit, p'raps," said Dickie bravely, "but I can stick it."
"We'll get summat with wheels for you to-morrow," said the man, "if it's
only a sugar-box; an' I can tie that leg of yours up to make it look
like as if it was cut off."
"It's this 'ere nasty boot as makes me tired," said Dickie.
"Hoff with it," said the man obligingly; "down you sets on them stones
and hoff with it! T'other too if you like. You can keep to the grass."
The dewy grass felt pleasantly cool and clean to Dickie's tired little
foot, and when they crossed the road where a water-cart had dripped it
was delicious to feel the cool mud squeeze up between your toes. That
was charming; but it was pleasant, too, to wash the mud off on the wet
grass. Dickie always remembered that moment. It was the first time in
his life that he really enjoyed being clean. In the hospital you were
almost too clean; and you didn't do it yourself. That made all the
difference. Yet it was the memory of the hospital that made him say, "I
wish I could 'ave a bath."
"So you shall," said Mr. Beale; "a reg'ler wash all over--this very
night. I always like a wash meself. Some blokes think it pays to be
dirty. But it don't. If you're clean they say 'Honest Poverty,' an' if
you're dirty they say 'Serve you right.' We'll get a pail or something
this very night."
"You _are_ good," said Dickie. "I do like you."
Mr. Beale looked at him through the deepening twilight--rather queerly,
Dickie thought. Also he sighed heavily.
"Oh, well--all's well as has no turning; and things don't always----
What I mean to say, you be a good boy and I'll do the right thing by
you."
"I know you will," said Dickie, with enthusiasm. "_I_ know 'ow good you
are!"
"Bless me!" said Mr. Beale uncomfortably. "Well, there. Step out, sonny,
or we'll never get there this side Christmas."
* * * * *
Now you see that Mr. Beale may be a cruel, wicked man who only wanted to
get hold of Dickie so as to make money out of him; and he may be going
to be very unkind indeed to Dickie when once he gets him away into the
country, and is all alone with him--and his having that paper and
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