Good Books

Y' see, Joe's allus lived clean, sir, consequent Joe's sound,
wind an' limb. Joe could go back an' beat all these fancy bruisers and
stringy young champs to-day--if 'e only would--but don't let 'im 'ear me
say so."
"You're fond of Joe, Old Un?"
"An' why for not, sir--s' long as 'e don't know it? Didn't 'e look arter
poor old me when 'e 'ad money, an' when 'e lost everything, didn't 'e
look arter me still? An' now 'e 's your shuvver, don' 'e keep a roof
over me poor old 'ead like a son--don't 'e give me the run o' jour
garridge an' let me watch 'im spar wi' you an' your gentlemen friends?
Ain't 'e the best an' truest-'earted man as ever drawed breath? Ah, a
king o' men is Joe, in the ring an' out, sir--only never let 'im 'ear me
say so--'e 'd be that proud, Lord! there'd be no livin' wi' 'im--sh,
'ere 'e be, sir."
Joe had laid by his chauffeur's garb and looked even bigger and grimmer
in flannels and sweater.
"Ho you, Joe," cried the old man, scowling, "did ye bring me that
'bacca?"
"S'posin' I didn't?" demanded Joe.


Pages:
186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210