He's as obstinate a young gonoph as I know.

He WON'T move on." "Oh, my eye! Where can I move to!" cries the boy, clutching quite desperately at his hair and beating his bare feet upon the floor of Mr.Snagsby's passage.
"Don't you come none of that or I shall make blessed short work of you!" says the constable, giving him a passionless shake.

"My instructions are that you are to move on.

I have told you so five hundred times." "But where ?" cries the boy.
"Well! Really, constable, you know," says Mr.Snagsby wistfully, and coughing behind his hand his cough of great perplexity and doubt, "really, that does seem a question.

Where, you know ?" "My instructions don't go to that," replies the constable.