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Henty, G. A. (George Alfred), 1832-1902

"By Sheer Pluck, a Tale of the Ashanti War"

"
Frank remonstrated no more, but committed himself entirely to his
friend's guidance. At the Mansion House they mounted on the roof
of an omnibus going west, and at Knightsbridge got off and walked
to Eaton Square, where Ruthven's father resided. The latter was
out, so Frank accompanied his friend to what he called his sanctum,
a small room littered up with books, bats, insect boxes, and a
great variety of rubbish of all kinds. Here they chatted until the
servant came up and said that Sir James had returned.
"Come on, Frank," Ruthven said, running downstairs. "There's nothing
of the ogre about the governor."
They entered the study, and Ruthven introduced his friend.
"I've caught him, father, at last. This is the culprit."
Sir James Ruthven was a pleasant looking man, with a kindly face.
"Well, you troublesome boy," he said, holding out his hand, "where
have you been hiding all this time?"
"I don't know that I've been hiding, sir," Frank said.
"Not exactly hiding," Sir James smiled, "only keeping away from
those who wanted to find you. Well, and how are you getting on?"
"I am getting on very well, sir. I am earning eighteen shillings
a week and my board and lodging, and my employer says he will take
me into partnership as soon as I come of age.


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