"Ah! it is," the old man said; "and the winter cumin' on. I never was much used to open air, bein' in domestic service all my life; but I don't mind that so long as I can see my way to earn a livin'.
Well, thank God! I've got a job at last"; and his voice grew cheerful suddenly. "Sellin' papers is not what I been accustomed to;but the Westminister, they tell me that's one of the most respectable of the evenin' papers--in fact, I know it is. So now I'm sure to get on; I try hard.""How did you get the job?" asked Shelton.
"I 've got my character," the old fellow said, ****** a gesture with a skinny hand towards his chest, as if it were there he kept his character.
"Thank God, nobody can't take that away! I never parts from that";and fumbling, he produced a packet, holding first one paper to the light, and then another, and he looked anxiously at Shelton. "In that house where I been sleepin' they're not honest; they 've stolen a parcel of my things--a lovely shirt an' a pair of beautiful gloves a gentleman gave me for holdin' of his horse. Now, would n't you prosecute 'em, sir?""It depends on what you can prove."
"I know they had 'em. A man must stand up for his rights; that's only proper. I can't afford to lose beautiful things like them. Ithink I ought to prosecute, now, don't you, sir?"Shelton restrained a smile.
"There!" said the old man, smoothing out a piece of paper shakily, "that's Sir George!" and his withered finger-tips trembled on the middle of the page: 'Joshua Creed, in my service five years as butler, during which time I have found him all that a servant should be.' And this 'ere'--he fumbled with another--"this 'ere 's Lady Glengow : 'Joshua Creed--' I thought I'd like you to read 'em since you've been so kind.""Will you have a pipe?"