ctor's
face, "fire away!"

"You're a shoeblack, I see," said the doctor.

"That's my purfession."

"Do you like it?"

"Vell, w'en it's dirty weather, with lots o' mud, an' coppers goin', I
does. W'en it's all sunshine an' starwation, I doesn't."

"My friend Mr Mellon tells me that you're a very good boy."

Little Slidder looked at me with a solemn, reproachful air.

"Oh! _what_ a wopper!" he said.

We both laughed at this.

"Come, Slidder," said I, "you must learn to treat us with more respect,
else I shall have to change my opinion of you."

"Wery good, sir, that's _your_ business, not mine. I wos inwited here,
an' here I am. Now, wot 'ave you got to say to me?--that's the p'int."

"Can you read and write?" resumed the doctor.

"Cern'ly not," replied the boy, with the air of one who had been
insulted; "wot d'you take me for? D'you think I'm a genius as can read
an' write without 'avin' bin taught or d'you think I'm a monster as wos
born readin' an' writin'? I've 'ad no school to go to nor nobody to
putt me there."

"I thought the School Board looked after such as you."

"So they does, sir; but I've been too many for the school-boarders."

"Then it's your own fault that you've not been taught?" said the doctor,
somewhat severely.

"Not at all," returned the urchin, with quiet assurance. "It's the
dooty o' the school-boarders to ketch me, an' they can't ketch me.
That's not my fault. It's my superiority."

My friend looked at the little creature before him with much surprise.
After a few seconds' contemplation and thought, he continued--"Well,
Slidder, as my friend here says you are a good sort of boy, I am bound
to believe him, though appearances are somewhat against you. Now, I am
in want of a smart boy at present, to attend to the hall-door, show
patients into my consulting-room, run messages--in short, make himself
generally useful about the house. How would such a situation suit you?"

"W'y, doctor," said the boy, ignoring the question, "how could any boy
attend on your 'all-door w'en it's burnt to hashes?"

"We will manage to have another door," replied Dr McTougall, with a
forbearing smile; "meanwhile you could practise on the door of this
house.--But that is not answering my question, boy. How would you like
the place? You'd have light work, a good salary, pleasant society below
stairs, and a blue uniform. In short, I'd make a page-in-buttons of
you."

"Wot about the wittles?