Mr.Bomford watched him pass into the inner room, with his mouth open.
"God bless my soul, Burton!" he exclaimed.

"What an extraordinary child!" Burton laughed, a little hoarsely.
"A few weeks ago," he said, "that boy was running about the streets with greased hair, a butcher's curl, a soiled velveteen suit, a filthy lace collar, dirty hands, torn stockings, playing disreputable games with all the urchins of the neighborhood.

He murdered the Queen's English every time he spoke, and spent his pennies on things you suck.

His mother threw two of the beans I had procured with great difficulty for them both into the street.

He picked one up and ate it--a wretched habit of his.