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Updated: June 24, 2025
The rabble filled the dark old street from wall to wall, as if a cloud of good-for-naughts had burst above the town; and far in front sped one small, curly-headed lad, running like a frightened fawn.
This seems to be carrying imposture to the extreme of refinement, or possibly developing it into a fine art, and reminds one of those human good-for-naughts who "sponge" off their relatives rather than go among strangers. Before closing this chapter I must call attention to one of the most surprising discoveries ever made by an American observer of bird ways.
"I suppose you think I'm going to spin ye a yarn now, ye good-for-naughts, don't ye?" he inquired, with a ferocious glance around the circle. "If you back out now, Reddy," laughed Bert, "after getting us worked up this way, we'll all swear to throw the next game we play, just to get even with you."
So it was here, at any rate. The colony of good-for-naughts was scarcely founded before consumption seemed to set in and went on working. For the moment, indeed, the manufacturer seemed to be forgotten, and all went on as before.
"I have not struck you yet," cried the other, "but, by the Virgin, if I have more of this I will come down the ladder to you!" "Silence, you good-for-naughts!" said a third voice sternly. "If the work be not done by daybreak, there will be a heavy reckoning for somebody." And again the steady hammering and sawing went forward.
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