Finding the lad's impersonal, deliberate gaze of an artist on his face, he got into a fury.
"What are yer lookin' at ?" he sneered, bullying.
The boy glanced away.

But the smith used to stand behind the counter and talk to Mr.Pappleworth.His speech was dirty, with a kind of rottenness.

Again he found the youth with his cool, critical gaze fixed on his face.

The smith started round as if he had been stung.
"What'r yer lookin' at, three hap'orth o' pap ?" he snarled.
The boy shrugged his shoulders slightly.
"Why yer--!" shouted Dawes.
"Leave him alone," said Mr.Pappleworth, in that insinuating voice which means, "He's only one of your good little sops who can't help it." Since that time the boy used to look at the man every time he came through with the same curious criticism, glancing away before he met the smith's eye.

It made Dawes furious.