From the perspective of Pip:
During my tenure in
I was quickly taken aback when a raggedy young boy crashed into me. Stumbling back to his feet and dusting the soil from his grubby worn out trousers, the excitable young lad quickly took notice of me. Winking at me, he gave a cheerful “Hallo! Wot s’a gentleman like you doin’ down in here gallows?”
The boy was not older than me, although he was far less tall. His hair was rumpled, as if he had the grave misfortune of encountering Uncle Pumblechook, and his teeth were crooked as if a fight had not gone in his favor. He was not plump, no, quite the opposite really, and reeked of the smell of street urchins.
“Good evening”, I said, trying to sound polite, “perhaps I could ask you the same thing sir. What brings you to Newgate Prison this evening?”
The boy burst into a fit of laugher, being so overcome as to hold onto the lamp post for support. Wiping tears from his eyes, the boy said, “Why I come ‘ere all nights old chap!” I stared at him, unable to comprehend why one would willingly subject himself to such a bizarre hobby.
“You see,” the boy continued, winking once more, “the sight of ‘em criminals getting wot’s comin’ to ‘em, it’s a loverly sight. You see, I want to be a deliv’rer of justice someday, mayhaps a judge and whatnot.”
“Good luck”, I said, genuinely. You see, to my younger self, the boy was just like me: one who was trying to rise from his commonness to become something respected in society, and I couldn’t help but feel a little sympathetic.
“Thankee!” said the boy, winking once more, “it’s not evr’yday that I get ‘em blessings from a gentleman! Anywho, it’s time for me to part.”
As I watched him running through the crowd, I suddenly realized that I did not know his moniker. I quickly dashed after him, finally catching up to him to ask “kind sir, what name do you go by?”
The boy looked at me and said, “Wembley, pleased to make your acquaintance!” We shook hands and went our separate ways.
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