They're--they're
too much like me. That's wot I mean, Jacky. Would you mind just
conversing with 'er friendly like from time to time? Just give 'er a
touch of wot a real gentleman is, sir. It ain't asking too much of
you, is it, Dav--Jacky? I ain't ashamed to ask it of you, and I--I
kind of hoped you wouldn't be ashamed to 'elp tone 'er up a bit, in a
way. She's more like 'er mother than she is like me. And 'er mother
was as fine a columbine as ever lived, she was that refined and
steadfast."
David gave his promise, strangely touched by this second appeal to the
birthright that placed him, though helpless and dependent, on a plane
so far above that of his present associates that even the most
scornful of them felt the distinction. He recalled the profane
respectfulness of the boss canvasman earlier in the day--a condition
which would have astonished that worthy beyond description if he had
had the least idea that he _was_ respectful.
CHAPTER VI
DAVID JENISON'S STORY
David's first week with the show was a trying one. In the first place,
he was kept so carefully under cover, literally as well as
figuratively, that he seldom saw the light of day except at dawn or
through the space between sidewall and top.
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