"
Here she tapped her forehead with her finger in a
significant manner.
"What do you mean by that?" asked the gentleman, while
Diamond looked on smiling.
"The cabbies call him God's baby," she whispered. "He's not
right in the head, you know. A tile loose."
Still Diamond, though he heard every word, and understood
it too, kept on smiling. What could it matter what people called
him, so long as he did nothing he ought not to do? And, besides,
God's baby was surely the best of names!
"Well, my little man, and what can you do?" asked the
gentleman, turning towards him -- just for the sake of saying
something.
"Drive a cab," said Diamond.
"Good; and what else?" he continued; for, accepting what
the girl had said, he regarded the still sweetness of Diamond's
face as a sign of silliness, and wished to be kind to the poor
little fellow.
"Nurse a baby," said Diamond.
"Well -- and what else?"
"Clean father's boots, and make him a bit of toast for his
tea."
"You're a useful little man," said the gentleman. "What
else can you do?"
"Not much that I know of," said Diamond. "I can't curry a
horse, except somebody puts me on his back. So I don't count
that."
"Can you read?"
"No.
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