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Tommy Traddles

           

           ‘DoyouknowwhatIcan’thelpthinkingof,Traddles,asIsitherelookingatyou?’Iaskedhim.

           ‘No,’saidhe.

           ‘Thatsky-bluesuityouusedtowear.’

           ‘Lord,tobesure!’criedTraddles,laughing.‘Tightinthearmsandlegs,youknow?Dearme!Well!Thosewerehappytimes,weren’tthey?’

           ‘Ithinkourschoolmastermighthavemadethemhappier,withoutdoinganyharmtoanyofus,Iacknowledge,’Ireturned.

           ‘Perhapshemight,’saidTraddles.‘Butdearme,therewasagooddealoffungoingon.Doyourememberthenightsinthebedroom?Whenweusedtohavethesuppers?Andwhenyouusedtotellthestories?Ha,ha,ha!AnddoyourememberwhenIgotcanedforcryingaboutMr.Mell?OldCreakle!Ishouldliketoseehimagain,too!’

           ‘Hewasabrutetoyou,Traddles,’saidI,indignantly;forhisgoodhumourmademefeelasifIhadseenhimbeatenbutyesterday.

           ‘Doyouthinkso?’returnedTraddles.‘Really?Perhapshewasrather.Butit’sallover,alongwhile.OldCreakle!’

           ‘Youwerebroughtupbyanuncle,then?’saidI.

           ‘OfcourseIwas!’saidTraddles.‘TheoneIwasalwaysgoingtowriteto.Andalwaysdidn’t,eh!Ha,ha,ha!Yes,Ihadanunclethen.HediedsoonafterIleftschool.’

           ‘Indeed!’

           ‘Yes.

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Roboto Lora
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