But whether this scurvy ruffian be thy
father or no, 'tis all one, he shall not have thee to beat thee and
abuse, according to his threat, so thou prefer to abide with me.'
'I do, I do- I know him not, I loathe him, and will die before I
will go with him.'
'Then 'tis settled, and there is naught more to say.'
'We will see, as to that!' exclaimed John Canty, striding past
Hendon to get at the boy; 'by force shall he-'
'If thou do but touch him, thou animated offal, I will spit thee
like a goose!' said Hendon, barring the way and laying his hand upon
his sword-hilt. Canty drew back. 'Now mark ye,' continued Hendon, 'I
took this lad under my protection when a mob such as thou would have
mishandled him, mayhap killed him; dost imagine I will desert him
now to a worser fate?- for whether thou art his father or no- and
sooth to say, I think it is a lie- a decent swift death were better
for such a lad than life in such brute hands as thine. So go thy ways,
and set quick about it, for I like not much bandying of words, being
not overpatient in my nature.'
John Canty moved off, muttering threats and curses, and was
swallowed from sight in the crowd. Hendon ascended three flights of
stairs to his room, with his charge, after ordering a meal to be
sent thither. It was a poor apartment, with a shabby bed and some odds
and ends of old furniture in it, and was vaguely lighted by a couple
of sickly candles. The little king dragged himself to the bed and
lay down upon it, almost exhausted with hunger and fatigue.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80