Enter the Knife-boy.—Hamper1 for Briggses!
Master Brown.—Hurray, Tom Briggs! I'll lend you my knife.
If this story does not carry its own moral, what fable2 does, I wonder? Before the arrival of that hamper, Master Briggs was in no better repute than any other young gentleman of the lower school; and in fact I had occasion myself, only lately, to correct Master Brown for kicking his friend's shins during the writing-lesson. But how this basket directed by his mother's housekeeper3, and marked "Glass with care," (whence I conclude that it contains some jam and some bottles of wine probably, as well as the usual cake and game-pie, and half a sovereign for the elder Master B., and five new shillings for Master Decimus Briggs)—how, I say, the arrival of this basket, alters all Master Briggs's circumstances in life, and the estimation in which many persons regard him!
If he is a good-hearted boy, as I have reason to think, the very first thing he will do, before inspecting the contents of the hamper, or cutting into them with the knife which Master Brown has so considerately lent him; will be to read over the letter from home which lies on the top of the parcel. He does so, as I remark to Miss Raby (for whom I happened to be mending pens when the little circumstance arose), with a flushed face and winking4 eyes. Look how the other boys are peering into the basket as he reads.—I say to her, "Isn't it a pretty picture?" Part of the letter is in a very large hand. That is from his little sister. And I would wager5 that she netted the little purse which he has just taken out of it, and which Master Lynx is eyeing.
"You are a droll6 man, and remark all sorts of queer things," Miss Raby says, smiling, and plying7 her swift needle and fingers as quick as possible.
"I am glad we are both on the spot, and that the little fellow lies under our guns as it were, and so is protected from some such brutal8 school-pirates as young Duval for instance, who would rob him probably of some of those good things, good in themselves, and better because fresh from home. See, there is a pie as I said, and which I dare say is better than those which are served at our table (but you never take any notice of these kind of things, Miss............