The Store Boy

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Excerpt from The Store Boy: Or the Fortunes of Ben Barclay "Give me a ride?" Ben Barclay checked the horse he was driving and looked attentively at the speaker. He was a stout-built, dark-complexioned man, with a beard of a week's growth, wearing an old and dirty suit, which would have reduced any tailor to despair if taken to him for cleaning and repairs. A loose hat, with a torn crown, surmounted a singularly ill-favored visage. "A tramp, and a hard-looking one!" said Ben to himself. He hesitated about answering, being naturally reluctant to have such a traveling companion. "Well, what do you say?" demanded the tramp, rather impatiently. "There's plenty of room on that seat, and I'm dead tired." "Where are you going?" asked Ben. "Same way you are - to Pentonville."