The fellows all despised him, and called him a pious young prig, because he said his prayers at night, and went to a chapel on Sundays.

But, prig or not, he was as happy as a king over his stamps, and the sight made me (I knew not why), tenfold more miserable.
"Hullo!" said he, stopping whistling as I came in, "there's a letter for you.

I say, if you get any foreign stamps at your office I wish you'd save them for me, will you?
Look, here's a jolly Brazil one; I got it-- what's the matter ?" I heard not a word of his chatter, for the letter was from Packworth.
"Sir,--We're afraid poor Master Johnny is very bad--he's been taken to the hospital.

He said, when he took ill, that it must have been a boy he took out of the streets and let sleep in his bed.

Oh, sir, we are so sad! The young lady is better; but if Johnny dies--" I could read no more.