White Boots Read Online Free Page B

couldn’t put a footwrong. And how he loved it. Why, there’s mornings now, especially at this time of year, when there’s a nip of frost in the air, and the smell of dropped leaves, I can fancy old Whisky here raising his head, and I can see a look in his eye as if he were saying ‘What’s keeping us? Wonderful morning for a hunt, let’s be off.’”
    Alec was so interested in the horses and the little bits of their history that Mr Pulton let drop, that he forgot the paper round, and it was quite a surprise to him when Mr Pulton, holding up his candle so that he could see Alec’s face clearly, said:
    â€œWhy do you want my paper round? Not the type.”
    â€œWhy not? I’m honest, sober and industrious.”
    Mr Pulton chuckled.
    â€œMaybe, but you haven’t answered my question. Why do you want my paper round?”
    Alec, though privately he thought Mr Pulton was a bit inquisitive, decided he had better explain.
    â€œWell, sir, it’s to hire boots and skates for my sister Harriet, who’s been ill and…”
    Mr Pulton held up a finger to stop Alec.
    â€œSit down, boy, sit down. At my age you feel your legs, can’t keep standing all the time. Besides, I’ve got my toddy waiting in the fireplace. You like toddy?… No, course you wouldn’t. If you go through that door into my kitchen, and open the cupboard, you’ll see in the left-hand corner a bottle marked ‘Ginger wine’. Nothing like ginger wine for keeping out the cold.”
    Alec went into the kitchen; it was a very neat, tidy kitchen, evidently whoever looked after Mr Pulton did it nicely. He found the cupboard easily, and he brought the bottle of ginger wine and a glass back to the sitting room. Mr Pulton nodded in a pleased way, and pointed to the chair opposite his own.
    â€œSit down, boy… sit down… help yourself. Now tell me about your sister Harriet.”
    Mr Pulton was an easy man to talk to; he sat sipping his toddy, now and again nodding his head, and all the time his interested blue eyes were fixed on Alec. When Alec had told him everything, including how difficult it was to make the shop pay because of Uncle William eating so much, and how Dr Phillipson thought he could get Harriet into the rink for nothing, he put down his glass of toddy, folded his hands, and put on the business face he wore in his paper shop.
    â€œHow much does it cost to hire boots and skates?”
    â€œTwo shillings a session.”
    Mr Pulton gave an approving grunt, and shook himself a little as if he was pleased about something.
    â€œMorning and evening rounds. Good. The last boy I had would only do mornings, no good in that, never get into my ways. I pay ten shillings a week for the morning round, and four shillings for the evening round; there’s not so much work in the evenings, mostly they buy their papers from a newsboy on the street, nasty, dirty habit. Never buy papers from newsboys. You can have the job.”
    Alec was reckoning the money in his head. Harriet would only go to one session of skating a day, that meant for six days, for there would be no skating on Sunday, which would cost twelve shillings. That would give him two shillings over for himself. Two shillings a week! Because of Uncle William’s mixed and irregular supplies to the shop, it was scarcely ever that he had any pocket money, and the thought of having two whole shillings a week made his eyes shine far brighter than Mr Pulton’s candles.
    â€œThank you, sir. When can I start?”
    â€œTomorrow. You said your sister was starting skating tomorrow. You’ll be here at seven and you’ll meet my present paper boy, he’ll show you round. You look pleased. Think you’ll like delivering papers?”
    Alec felt warm inside from ginger wine, and outside from the fire, and being warm inside and out gives a talkative feeling.
    â€œIt’s the two shillings. You see,