“滚出去Ø'弗莱彻先生的道路，你们无所事事，闲逛，小 - ”
    “流氓，”我认为女人（萨莉沃特金斯，一旦我的护士），要说，但她改变了主意。
    我父亲和我都看了一轮，惊讶于她的绰号不寻常的沉默：但是当小伙子给转过身来，盯着我们每一个时刻，他的眼睛，又为我们这样，我们不再怀疑。衣衫褴褛，泥泞和痛苦，因为他的可怜的孩子看什么，而是一个“流浪者”。
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    "Get out o' Mr. Fletcher's road, ye idle, lounging, little--"
    "Vagabond," I think the woman (Sally Watkins, once my nurse), was going to say, but she changed her mind.
    My father and I both glanced round, surprised at her unusual reticence of epithets: but when the lad addressed turned, fixed his eyes on each of us for a moment, and made way for us, we ceased to wonder. Ragged, muddy, and miserable as he was, the poor boy looked anything but a "vagabond."