The things we do!

Tut, tut, don't
tell me. You know you spell out the words when you read the newspaper
still, and what would your bills look like if I did not write them in my
nice little hand? I tell you that boy is a genius. I tell you that one
day the world will hear of him. His heart is made of pure gold. You think
that all the wit belongs to the big people. Look at me, you great tall
man! Am I not a hundred times cleverer than you are? Yes, and John James
is worth a thousand such insignificant little chits as I am; and he is as
tall as me too, sir. Do you hear that! One day I am determined he shall
dine at Lord Todmorden's table, and he shall get the prize at the Royal
Academy, and be famous, sir--famous!"
"Well, Miss C., I wish he may get it; that's all I say," answers Mr.
Ridley. "The poor fellow does no harm, that I acknowledge; but I never
see the good he was up to yet. I wish he'd begin it; I du wish he would
now." And the honest gentleman relapses into the study of his paper.


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