Ay, that I will! for who should
know manners better than me, who used to work for the Staniers, and dine
at the housekeeper's table, with the butler and all the head servants? to
be sure I'll take care that she does not grow up ungenteel. Where is the
dear child, brother James?"
"She's gone out for a walk this fine morning," he answered.
"Not alone?" cried Charlotte. "Who's gone out with her? A child under
five years old could never go out all alone in London: at least I should
think not. She might get run over and killed a score of times."
"Oh! there's a person with her I've every confidence in," replied Oliver.
"What sort of person; man or woman; male or female?" inquired Charlotte.
"A boy," he answered, in some confusion.
"A boy!" repeated his sister, as if he had said a monster. "What boy?"
"His name's Tony," he replied.
"But where does he come from? Is he respectable?" she pursued, fixing
him with her glittering eyes in a manner which did not tend to restore
his composure.
"I don't know, sister," he said in a feeble tone.
"Don't know, brother James!" she exclaimed. "Don't you know where
he lives?"
"He lives here," stammered old Oliver; "at least he sleeps here under the
counter; but he finds his own food about the streets.
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