"Bless the boy! I had nearly forgotten him!" cried Jack Sparling, which was the name of the tea-drinker. "Come, lad, rouse up!"
The boy jumped up, staring, and only half awake for a moment, but he soon remembered where he was and all about it; and while the men piled the tools on the lorry, he very neatly packed up the tins and knives and what was left of the dinner, in the basket. Sparling watched him, and saw that not so much as a crust was kept back for himself, and this gave him a good opinion of the lad, as there could be little doubt that he was in want. The boy brought the basket and laid it on the lorry, saying to Avery—
"If you please, sir, I'm to go to your lodgings with you, for Mrs. Avery took my bundle back with her when I took her basket, and she said I was to come with you and get it."
"All right, get up on the lorry. No, Deasy! not a bit of it, my lad. You rode all the way out this morning and wouldn't help, so you'll just walk, and push all the way in."
Deasy looked rebellious enough for a moment, but then said, with a laugh, "You may make me walk, but you can't make me push!" And darting forward, he ran away along the line, settling into a kind of trot when he was out of reach, and they saw him no more.
"Lazy young cub!" said Avery wrathfully. "They may well call him Easy Deasy; but I declare, since we began this job, that boy has been the plague of my life! He's got into idle company, that's how 'tis, and he'll lose his place yet."
"What's your name, boy?" said Sparling, who was seated beside the stranger on the lorry.
"Roger Read."
"Where d'ye come from?"
"Last from London, in a ship called the Sandlark."