High-Spy made Mr. Pritchard do it.
Mr. Johns leaves those kinds of things to him. Swell folks like him
'ain't got time to look after folks like us. He's awful rich, ain't
he?"
"He isn't poor. When are you going to have your lunch?" I looked at
my watch. "Can't you go out and have it with me? I'll ask Mr.
Johns. Come on, quick. I'll see the other rooms when I come back."
Jimmy shook his head. "I can't go. I ain't being docked 'count of
being with you, because Mr. Pritchard sent me, but he wouldn't let me
come back if I went out. I been sent down to him once to-day, and
please 'm don't ask him, please 'm don't!"
In Jimmy's voice was something of terror, and his hands slipped in
and out of his trousers' pockets with nervous, frightened movements.
His usually merry little mouth with its pale lips quivered oddly, and
in his eyes, as he turned away, were tears I could not understand.
I put my hand on his shoulder, lifted his face to mine. "What is it,
Jimmy? What has happened that you don't want me to ask Mr. Johns to
tell Mr. Pritchard you can go with me? Why are you afraid?"
"I ain't afraid.
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