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Pillett went back, and furtively held up his fist at triumphant Gloog, who came out panting as if he had just been running fast, and as soon as he had made the regulation bow, he, from old force of habit, wiped his nose on his cuff. "No, no, no, no," cried the doctor, without giving the lad a second glance, the first at his low, narrow forehead and cunning cast of features being quite enough.
"I haven't a fault to find with him. He is now twelve years old, and he " "Won't do," said the doctor crossly. "Go back, Bunce," cried the master. "Pillett, stand out. Now here, sir, is a lad whom I am sure you will like. Writes a hand like copperplate. Age thirteen, and very intelligent." Pillett came forward eagerly, after darting a triumphant look at Coggley and Bunce.
I shall treat him exactly as if he were my own son, and if he is a good lad, it will be the making of him." "Oh! I see, sir," said Mr Hippetts importantly. "Go back, Pillett. I have the very boy. Gloog!"
"How old?" "About eleven, sir." "Humph! Trot him out." "Obed Coleby," said the master in a severe voice. "Coleby, eh?" "Yes, sir. Son of a miserable tramp who died some years ago in the House. No name with him, so we called him after the town." "Humph!" said the doctor, as the little fellow came, full of eagerness and excitement, after kicking at Pillett, who put out a leg to hinder his advance.
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