Part 2 (2/2)
”Oh, nonsense!” George said. ”I should like to have you with me, Bill; I should really. Besides, what's the difference between us? We have both got to work for ourselves and make our way in the world.”
”There's a lot of difference. Yer don't talk the way as I do; yer have been brought up different. Don't tell me.”
”I may have been brought up differently, Bill. I have been fortunate there; but now, you see, I have got to get my living in the best way I can, and if I have had a better education than you have, you know ever so much more about London and how to get your living than I do, so that makes us quits.”
”Oh, wery well,” Bill said; ”it's all the same to this child. So if yer aint too proud, here goes.”
He led the way down a stable yard, past several doors, showing the empty stalls which would be all filled when the market carts arrived.
At the last door on the right he stopped. George looked in. At the further end a man was rubbing down a horse by the faint light of a lantern, the rest of the stable was in darkness.
”This way,” Bill whispered.
Keeping close behind him, George entered the stable. The boy stopped in the corner.
”Here's the ladder. I will go up fust and give yer a hand when yer gets to the top.”
George stood quiet until his companion had mounted, and then ascended the ladder, which was fixed against the wall. Presently a voice whispered in his ear:
”Give us your hand. Mind how yer puts your foot.”
In a minute he was standing in the loft. His companion drew him along in the darkness, and in a few steps arrived at a pile of hay.
”There yer are,” Bill said in a low voice; ”yer 'ave only to make yourself comfortable there. Now mind you don't fall down one of the holes into the mangers.”
”I wish we had a little light,” George said, as he ensconced himself in the hay.
”I will give you some light in a minute,” Bill said, as he left his side, and directly afterwards a door opened and the light of a gaslight in the yard streamed in.
”That's where they pitches the hay in,” Bill said as he rejoined him.
”I shuts it up afore I goes to sleep, 'cause the master he comes out sometimes when the carts comes in, and there would be a blooming row if he saw it open; but we are all right now.”
”That's much nicer,” George said. ”Now here's a loaf I brought with me. We will cut it in half and put by a half for the morning, and eat the other half between us now, and I have got some cheese here too.”
”That's tiptop!” the boy said. ”Yer're a good sort, I could see that, and I am pretty empty, I am, for I aint had nothing except that bit of duff yer gave me since morning, and I only had a crust then. 'Cept for running against you I aint been lucky to-day. Couldn't get a job nohows, and it aint for want of trying neither.”
For some minutes the boys ate in silence. George had given much the largest portion to his companion, for he himself was too dead tired to be very hungry. When he had finished, he said:
”Look here, Bill; we will talk in the morning. I am so dead beat I can scarcely keep my eyes open, so I will just say my prayers and go off to sleep.”
”Say your prayers!” Bill said in astonishment. ”Do yer mean to say as yer says prayers!”
”Of course I do,” George replied; ”don't you?”
”Never said one in my life,” Bill said decidedly; ”don't know how, don't see as it would do no good ef I did.”
”It would do good, Bill,” George said. ”I hope some day you will think differently, and I will teach you some you will like.”
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