Chapter 2215 - 252: Do You Dare Say I’m Not a Proper Gentleman, Eld Carter?

For respectable London gentlemen, there are always many things that can ruin their mood.

However, surely nothing is more vexing than being mocked by a bunch of street urchins.

These idle rascals often roam in gangs through London’s streets and alleys, sarcastically asking well-dressed passersby, "Where did you buy your hat?"

The ones wearing white-topped hats are always targeted, even dignified Bishops with their chimney hats can’t escape their mockery.

Once they latch onto you, at best they pull funny faces, at worst they ask in public, "Does your mother feel comfortable with you going out alone?" or "Is your father still well?" specifically to deflate the egos of respectable individuals.

Moreover, in this era that values boxing, they don’t just use their mouths. Especially vile are those butcher apprentices, these hot-blooded lads will set the scene for a brawl over trivial matters, even reasons that barely count.

But the surprising thing is that they fight with rules, mimicking the professional boxing regulations they admire. Therefore, hitting a fallen opponent, kicking, hitting below the belt or resorting to vile tricks are unthinkable here.

Of course, compared to their mocking of ordinary citizens, their ridicule towards police remains within safe boundaries.

Even though their attitude towards officers is somewhat courteous, considering these youths spend their days chasing cats and catching birds or inciting stray dogs to fight, Scotland Yard still doesn’t view them positively.

Adding insult to injury, ever since Arthur ascended to the Police Commissioner Committee, he couldn’t even wear the uniform that highlights his police identity anymore, so naturally, the boys wouldn’t think the eminent gentleman they teased with "What’s your mother’s maiden name?" would be the top figure in British policing.

As Arthur raised his eyes, several boys surrounded him in a half-circle, poised to continue their mischief.

The leading butcher apprentice was around fourteen or fifteen years old, with cuffs stained with fresh cow’s blood, clearly he had just dashed out from the neighboring Smithfield Market.

He tilted his chin and feigned respect by performing an exaggerated knee-bending bow to Arthur, "Sir, does your mother know you’ve ventured out today?"

A burst of jeering laughter erupted around.

Arthur just paused slightly as though he was contemplating a flock of little sparrows.

"She knows." Arthur replied casually, "And she instructed me, if I see any butcher apprentices loafing and skipping work on London’s streets, to inform their employer. So, tell me, should I do it?"

Upon hearing Arthur mention their employer, the lead boy’s smug expression froze immediately.

In London’s butchering industry, much like most traditional sectors, apprentices getting caught idling and causing trouble on the streets usually end up with docked wages or a few whacks at best, or get fired on the spot by their masters at worst.

And these days, having one’s apprenticeship terminated basically equals burying one’s future.

The group of boys exchanged glances, some starting to shift uneasily.

"Oh, sir, that’s harsh." The lead lad stood his ground, trying to save face, "We’re just offering you a greeting, part of London’s customs, are you from out of town?"

"London’s customs?"

Arthur raised his brows, looking neither angry nor offended, "Young man, if you truly understand London’s customs, you’d know this: In London, the one you should never provoke isn’t the police or the boxers, but those gentlemen who have time to bicker with you. Because if he gets mad, he won’t brawl with you but will tug your ear, whispering to your employer, ’I saw your apprentice loitering on Holborn Street’, and then the rest of your life will see you starting over at the fishmongers."

Upon hearing this, genuine fear flickered in the boys’ eyes.

Smithfield’s butcher apprentices dread nothing more than switching careers.

Because once a butcher apprentice qualifies, whether setting up a meat stall or taking charge of a butcher shop, earnings surpass those of skilled factory workers. Though the job is hard, most butcher apprentices easily save startup capital after qualifying.

London has an age-old saying: "A butcher never starves."

Moreover, with stable income, they remain sought after in the marriage market. Many women’s magazines frequently remind unmarried girls that marrying craftsmen, butchers, and carpenters is the safest choice.

Thus, for centuries, butchers have been among the few upper-tier professions in London.

And fishmongers?

Since the Middle Ages, fishmongers have always been regarded as disreputable.

Fish prices fluctuate wildly, profits are unstable, especially in London’s poor areas, fish meat has long been their cheapest protein source. Plus, due to the rapid spoilage of fish, it’s greatly affected by weather and transportation speed, and with ice now widespread, fish markets often stink in summer, earning fishmongers the nickname "stinkers."

Butchers can save up to marry, while fishmongers often struggle even to pay rent. Many boys apprentice to butchers via family connections, and if their parents learn they’ve had their contracts terminated, a beating awaits them at home, which would be lenient.