In order to carry out this decision, Xiao Yongchang was released from confinement and ordered to put on a clean shirt, which baffled him, and as soon as he had finished this extraordinary fitness exercise, Mr. Bombur brought him a bowl of porridge and a piece of festive bread.

Seeing this terrifying scene, Yongchang suddenly burst into tears of sadness, and he logically thought that the council must be going to kill him and use it, otherwise he would never use this method to fatten him.

"Don't cry your eyes red, Yongchang, eat well, and don't be ungrateful," said Mr. Bull, holding the rack, "and you're going to be an apprentice, Yongchang." ”

"Be an apprentice, sir." The child said tremblingly.

"Yes, Yongchang," said Bull, "you have no father or mother, so many kind and righteous gentlemen, they are all your parents, Yongchang, in order to send you to be an apprentice, to fend for yourself, to grow up, the parish spent five oceans, Yongchang! - just for a naughty orphan, an unlikable orphan. ”

Mr. Bull's tone was awe-inspiring, and when he had said this, he stopped to breathe, and the poor boy let out a sad sob, and tears fell from his face.

"Ahh Mr. Bull's tone was not so high, and he was so relieved to see that his eloquence was quite effective. "Alright, Yongchang. Wipe your eyes with your sleeve and don't let your tears fall into the porridge, Yongchang, this is a stupid thing. That's true, there is enough water in the porridge.

Mr. Bull told Yongchang that what he was going to do was to appear happy, and when the governor asked him if he wanted to go to apprenticeship, he replied that he wanted to do so.

Yongchang promised to comply with these two orders, and Mr. Bull politely hinted that if one of them leaked, no one could say what to do with him at that time.

When he arrived at the diocesan governor's office, Yongchang was locked up in a hut, and Bull told him to stay there until he came back and called him.

The boy had been in the little room for half an hour, and his heart was beating for a while, when Mr. Bull suddenly put his head in, not even wearing a three-cornered hat, and said in a loud voice: "Hey, Yongchang, my dear, follow me to the steward." ”

Mr. Bull said with a hideous and terrible face, and added in a low voice, "Remember what I said to you, you little rascal. ”

Hearing this somewhat contradictory title, Yongchang innocently looked at Mr. Bull's face, but the gentleman did not allow him to express his opinion on this, and immediately led him into the next room with an open door.

The room is very spacious and has a large window. Behind a writing desk sat two gentlemen, one reading a newspaper and the other with a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, looking at a small piece of parchment in front of him.

Mr. Gordon stood on one side of the desk, his face unwiped, and on the other side, two or three frightening-looking men in long riding boots, pacing the room.

The bespectacled gentleman gradually dozed off the piece of parchment, and Mr. Bull brought Yongchang to the table and stood still, and there was a brief interval between them.

"Adult, this is the child." Mr. Bull said.

The gentleman, who was reading the newspaper, looked up and tugged at the sleeve of the other, and the gentleman woke up.

"Oh, is that the kid?" The gentleman spoke.

"That's him, sir." Boole replied, "Bow to the steward." ”

Yongchang straightened up and bowed respectfully. On the hair powder on his butler's head, he kept wondering if all the stewards were born with such a layer of oily paint on their heads, and whether they became pushers because of this play.

"Oh," said the gentleman, "I suppose he likes to sweep chimneys?" ”

"My lord, he likes it." Bull secretly twisted Yongchang and reminded him to get acquainted with each other and not to say that he didn't like it.

"So, he's happy to be a sweeper, isn't he?" The gentleman asked.

"If we let him do something else tomorrow, he'll slip away right away, my lord." Boole replied.

"This man is his master—you, sir—take good care of him, and take care of his food and lodging and all that sort of thing—isn't it?" The gentleman said again.

"If I say I can do it, I will definitely do it." Lao Gan replied stubbornly.

"You're rude, friend, but you seem to be a cheerful and honest man." The gentleman said, his glasses turning towards the applicant who had taken the prize.

Lao Gan's fierce face was originally branded as ruthless, but this steward may be half of his eyes and half of his thoughts are naïve, so it is something that everyone can see, but he can't be expected to see it.

"I'm sure that's the case, sir." Lao Gan's eyes glanced when he spoke, and he looked really disgusting.

"I don't doubt that, friend." The old gentleman replied. He straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose and looked around for an inkwell.

Yongchang's fate has reached a critical moment. If the ink kettle was in the gentleman's imagination, he would have inserted the pen and signed the certificate, and Yongchang was taken away in a hurry.

But the ink kettle was under the old gentleman's nose, and then he searched all over the table as usual, but still did not find it. Just as he was looking forward, his eyes fell on Yongchang's pale and frightened face.

Although Bull gave him a warning and pinched him, Yongchang ignored it completely, staring intently at the ugly face of his future master, and no one could be mistakenly taken by the look of disgust and panic blended together, even if it was a steward who had drunk too much.

Mr. Martin paused, put down his pen, looked at Yongchang, and then at Mr. Gordon, who pretended to be snuffing, and looked pleasant and nonchalant.

"Kid." The gentleman leaned down from his desk and said. This voice startled Yongchang, his reaction was understandable, just listen to how gentle this is, but the voice that is not familiar is always frightening, he can't stop shivering, tears burst out of his eyes.

"Child," said Mr. Martin, "look at you, your face is white with fright. What's wrong? ”

"Stay away from him," said the other steward, laying down the newspaper and leaning forward with interest. "Alright, kid, tell us what's going on, don't be afraid."

Yongchang fell to his knees, clasped his hands tightly together, and begged them to send him back to the dark room—to starve him—to beat him—to slaughter him if he was glad—not to send him away with that terrible man.

"Well," said Mr. Bull, as he raised his hands and rolled his eyes upwards with a very solemn expression. "Well, Yongchang, I've seen a lot of sinister, cunning, and unscrupulous orphans, and you're the most shameless of them all."

"Shut up, officer." Mr. Bull had scarcely uttered the adjective with the word "most" when the second gentleman spoke.

"I'm sorry, my lord," said Mr. Bull, wondering if he had misheard. "Do you mean me?"

"Yes, keep your mouth shut."

Mr. Bull was stunned. He even drank to shut up a parish officer. It's a world changer.

The gentleman with a pair of tortoiseshell glasses glanced at his colleague, who nodded meaningfully.

"We will not approve these deeds." Mr. Martin tossed the parchment aside and said.

"I hope," stammered Mr. Gordon, "that the two grown-ups will not assume that we are responsible for mismanagement on the basis of a child's unwarranted protest." ”

The second old gentleman snapped, "Take the child back to the nursery and treat him well, it seems that he needs this." ”