Part 3 (1/2)

”I don't want to know none,” Bill said positively. ”A missionary chap, he came and prayed with an old woman I lodged with once. I could not make head nor tail of it, and she died just the same, so you see what good did it do her?”

But George was too tired to enter upon a theological argument. He was already half asleep, and Bill's voice sounded a long way off.

”Good-night,” he muttered; ”I will talk to you in the morning,” and in another minute he was fast asleep.

Bill took an armful of hay and shook it lightly over his companion; then he closed the door of the loft and threw himself on the hay, and was soon also sound asleep. When George woke in the morning the daylight was streaming in through the cracks of the door. His companion was gone. He heard the voices of several men in the yard, while a steady champing noise and an occasional shout or the sound of a sc.r.a.ping on the stones told him the stalls below were all full now.

George felt that he had better remain where he was. Bill had told him the evening before that the horses and carts generally set out again at about nine o'clock, and he thought he had better wait till they had gone before he slipped down below. Closing his eyes he was very soon off to sleep again. When he woke, Bill was sitting by his side looking at him.

”Well, you are a oner to sleep,” the boy said. ”Why, it's nigh ten o'clock, and it's time for us to be moving. Ned will be going off in a few minutes, and the stables will be locked up till the evening.”

”Is there time to eat our bread and cheese?” George asked.

”No, we had better eat it when we get down to the market; come along.”

George at once rose, shook the hay off his clothes, and descended the ladder, Bill leading the way. There was no one in the stable, and the yard was also empty. On reaching the market they sat down on two empty baskets, and at once began to eat their bread and cheese.

CHAPTER II.

TWO FRIENDS.

”I did wake before, Bill,” George said after he had eaten a few mouthfuls; ”but you were out.”

”Yes, I turned out as soon as the carts began to come in,” Bill said, ”and a wery good morning I have had. One old chap gave me twopence for looking arter his hoss and cart while he went into the market with his flowers. But the best move was just now. A chap as was driving off with flowers, one of them swell West-end shops, I expect, by the look of the trap, let his rug fall. He didn't see it till I ran after him with it, then he gave me a tanner; that was something like. Have yer finished yer bread and cheese?”

”Yes,” George said, ”and I could manage a drink of water if I could get one.”

”There's a fountain handy,” Bill said; ”but you come along with me, I am agoing to stand two cups of coffee if yer aint too proud to take it;” and he looked doubtfully at his companion.

”I am not at all too proud,” George said, for he saw that the slightest hesitation would hurt his companion's feelings.

”It aint fust-rate coffee,” Bill said, as with a brightened look on his face he turned and led the way to a little coffee-stall; ”but it's hot and sweet, and yer can't expect more nor that for a penny.”

George found the coffee really better than he had expected, and Bill was evidently very much gratified at his expression of approval.

”Now,” he said, when they had both finished, ”for a draw of 'baccy,”

and he produced a short clay pipe. ”Don't yer smoke?”

”No, I haven't begun yet.”

”Ah! ye don't know what a comfort a pipe is,” Bill said. ”Why, when yer are cold and hungry and down on your luck a pipe is a wonderful thing, and so cheap; why, a ounce of 'baccy will fill yer thirty pipes if yer don't squeeze it in too hard. Well, an ounce of 'baccy costs threepence halfpenny, so, as I makes out, yer gets eight pipes for a penny; and now,” he went on when he had filled and lit his pipe, ”let's know what's yer game.”

”You mean what am I going to do?” George asked.

Bill nodded.

”I want to get employment in some sort of works. I have been an errand-boy in a grocer's for more than a year, and I have got a written character from my master in my pocket; but I don't like the sort of thing; I would rather work with my own hands. There are plenty of works where they employ boys, and you know one might get on as one gets older. The first thing is to find out whereabouts works of that sort are.”

”There are lots of works at the East End, I have heard tell,” Bill said; ”and then there's Clerkenwell and King's Cross, they aint so far off, and there are works there, all sorts of works, I should say; but I don't know nuffin' about that sort of work. The only work as I have done is holding hosses and carrying plants into the market, and sometimes when I have done pretty well I goes down and lays out what I got in _Echoes_, or _Globes_, or _Evening Standards_; that pays yer, that does, for if yer can sell them all yer will get a bob for eight penn'orth of papers, that gives yer fourpence for an hour's work, and I calls that blooming good, and can't yer get a tuck-out for a bob!