to the side of the carriage with his plaintive song: “Help an orphan! Buy an apple!”
The vehicle rattled on, so he began to jog alongside, holding up the apple and calling to those inside. After the third plea, he heard someone call out to the driver, who brought the horses to a halt. Archie stood at the carriage door as the window slid down. “Please, sir,” he called, “buy an apple. Help a poor orphan.”
A face appeared in the window: a youngish, long-nosed fellow with a shock of fair hair falling over a high forehead; he wore a knotted silk cravat with a gold stud. “Let me see the merchandise,” commanded the young gentleman, reaching a gloved hand through the window.
Archie dutifully handed over the apple, saying, “It’s a fresh one, sir. Very good fer yer appetite, sir.”
“Ha!” sneered the young gentleman. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He took a big bite from the middle of the apple, chewed it, swallowed it, then took another. Fully half the apple was gone in two bites. “This apple is bloody rotten!” cried the gentleman, flinging the apple into the gutter. He gave a rude guffaw. “Ta, you little blighter!”
Archie heard the twitter of female laughter from inside the coach. “Driver,” shouted the man, “drive on!”
The coachman, laughing at Archie, snapped the reins, and the horses jolted away.
“Oi! That’s not fair,” shouted Archie. “You ate my apple! You owe me!”
“Yah-boo!” The young toff waved his arm out the window, offering Archie the vee sign with upturned fingers as the carriage rumbled on. The boy scooped the apple from the gutter, drew back his arm, and let fly. The apple struck the broad back of the carriage, but missed the window.
Shaking with anger, he watched the back of the retreating carriage, and the thought came to him of running to catch it, jumping on the back. He had heard the older boys talking about this. Once a wealthy occupant had been identified, the boys hitched a ride and rode it to its destination—most often a great house or large town house where they disembarked before anyone was the wiser, and waited for an opportunity to enter the house and steal whatever valuables they might find to carry off.
In this instance, Archie felt the thievery justified: the young aristocrat had stolen from him first. Archie gathered himself. He was just drawing breath to start his run and scramble up onto the footman’s stand of the coach when he heard someone call from the pavement a few paces away. “They’re gone, lad. The damage is done. Let them go.”
Archie glanced around to see that he was being watched by a man in a long black coat and old-fashioned beaver-skin top hat. The man had dark, full moustaches and a little pointed beard shaped like a heart. He appeared to be of middle age and stood with his back to the bridge rail, holding a cane upright over one shoulder.
Embarrassed that his humiliation had been observed and his attempt at retaliation so nearly discovered, Archie felt the colour rising to his cheeks. He turned aside quickly and started to run away. He still had an apple left. If he hurried he could get to the next bridge and maybe still make a sale before dark.
“A moment!” called the man in the black coat. “A moment more of your time.”
Archie looked over his shoulder to see that the man was following him. Ignoring the man, he ran on.
“Wait, I say,” insisted the man. “Come back. I want to talk to you.”
“Can’t stop now,” called Archie.
“I shall definitely make it worth your while,” offered the man.
Although Archie did not fully understand what was being said to him, something about the man’s dry, clipped tones suggested an aristocratic bearing that compelled him to pause and turn back—if only to try selling his last remaining apple. He hurried back, fishing out the apple as he ran.
“I saw what happened,” called the man. “A most deplorable cad, that fellow. He should be publicly horsewhipped.”
“Would you like to buy an apple, sir?” asked the boy, rubbing the red skin of the fruit on his filthy shirt. He held it up to be admired.
“Are you really an orphan?”
“Yes, sir. Orphaned these four years.” He pushed the apple higher. “You like this apple, sir? Very good for you.”
“Tell me the truth, lad. Are you an orphan? I have a particular reason for asking.” When the boy hesitated, the