to forget the salient point of emphasis with his foot.

"What _do_ you mean, Bobby?--be earnest, like a dear boy, for once."

"Earnest!" exclaimed the urchin with vehemence. "I never was more in
earnest in my life. You should 'ave seen Swallow'd-the-poker w'en I
refused to 'ave it."

"Refused it?"

"Ay--refused it. Come Hetty, I'll explain."

The boy dropped his facetious tone and manner while he rapidly ran over
the chief points of his interview with Sir Richard.

"But why did you refuse so good an offer?" asked Hetty, still unable to
repress her surprise.

"Because of daddy."

"Daddy?"

"Ay, daddy. You know he's fond o' me, is daddy, and, d'ye know, though
p'r'aps you mayn't believe it, I'm raither fond o' _him_; but 'e's a bad
'un, is daddy. He's bent on mischief, you see, an' 'e's set his 'art on
my 'elpin' of 'im. But I _wont_ 'elp 'im--that's flat. Now, what d'ye
think, Hetty," (here he dropped his voice to almost a whisper and looked
solemn), "dad wants to make use o' me to commit a burglary on
Swallow'd-the-poker's 'ouse."

"You don't mean it, Bobby!"

"But I do, Hetty. Dad found out from that rediklous butler that goes
veepin' around our court like a leeky pump, that the old gen'l'man was
goin' to hoffer me this sitivation, an 'e's bin wery 'ard on me to
accept it, so that I may find out the ways o' the 'ouse where the plate
an' waluables lay, let 'im in some fine dark night an' 'elp 'im to carry
off the swag."

A distressed expression marked poor Hetty's reception of this news, but
she said never a word.

"Now you won't tell, Hetty?" said the boy with a look of real anxiety on
his face. "It's not so much his killin' me I cares about, but I
wouldn't bring daddy to grief for any money. I'd raither 'elp 'im than
that. You'll not say a word to nobody?"

"No, Bobby, I won't say a word."

"Vell, you see," continued the boy, "ven I'd made myself so disagreeable
that the old gen'l'man would 'ave nothin' to do with me, I came straight
away, an' 'ere I am; but it _was_ a trial, let me tell you, specially
ven 'e come to mention wages--an sitch a 'eavenly smell o' roasted
wittles come up from the kitchen too at the moment, but I 'ad only to
look at Miss Di, to make me as stubborn as a nox or a hass. `Wot!'
thinks I to myself, `betray that hangel--no, never!' yet if I was to go
into that 'ouse I know I'd do it, for daddy's got sitch a wheedlin' way
with 'im w'en 'e likes, that I couldn't 'ol