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"Good morning, Hippetts," said the doctor, who being a Poor-Law Guardian, and a wealthy inhabitant of the place, was received with smiles by the important master. "Good morning, sir. Called to look round." "No, Hippetts, no," said the doctor, in the tone and manner of one making an inquiry about some ordinary article of merchandise; "got any boys?" "Boys, sir; the house swarms with them."
"And now," said the doctor, "I'm going to ask Mr Hippetts to give you all a holiday, and I am leaving threepence a piece to be distributed among you, so that you may have a bit of fun."
"Yes, sir, I did," said Mr Hippetts, when he had a private interview with the doctor next day. "But it seems strange." "Very," said the doctor.
Then as they held him back he began to talk in a rapid disconnected way. "'Bliged to take it so hungry yes, sir please, sir I've come back, sir come back, Mr Sibery, sir if Mr Hippetts will let me stay where's Mother Curdley where's nurse!" "O father!" whispered Helen excitedly! "Poor, poor boy! what does this mean?"
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!"
"Now, let me see, sir," said the master; "of course the matter will have to be laid before the Board in the usual form, but you will make your selection now. Good light, sir, to choose." Mr Hippetts did not mean it unkindly; but he too spoke as if he were busy over some goods he had to sell. "Let me see. Ah! Coggley, stand out."
That burst of genuine affection won Mother Curdley five shillings, which she pocketed with one hand, as she wiped her eyes with the other, and then had a furtive pinch of snuff, which made several babies sneeze as if they had bad colds. "Very eccentric man," said Mr Hippetts. "Very," assented Mr Sibery. "But he'll bring the young ruffian back."
"Yes; I think he may, Mr Hippetts?" said the doctor. "Yes, sir; of course, sir, if you wish it," said the master, with rather an injured air; "but I feel bound to tell you the boy's character." "Yes; of course." "And to warn you, sir, that you will bring him back in less than a week." "No, Mr Hippetts," said the doctor quietly; "I shall not bring him back."
For Dexter was not perfect: he had borne till it was impossible to bear more, and then, with his anger surging up, he had fought as a down-trodden English boy will sometimes fight; and in this case with the pluck and steadiness learned in many a school encounter, unknown to Mr Sibery or Mr Hippetts, the keen-eyed and stern. Result: what might be expected.
"Wait a bit, Mr Hippetts," said the doctor more graciously. "Let me question the boy." "Certainly, sir. But he has a very bad record." "Humph! Tells the truth, though," said the doctor. "Here, sir, what's your name?" "Obed Coleby." "Sir!" cried the master. "Obed Coleby, sir," said the boy quickly, correcting himself. "What a name!" ejaculated the doctor. "Yes, ain't it? I hates it, sir."
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