He confessed to himself that he had been reckless and extravagant, but had enough left to pay for a bed.
He now directed his steps in the direction of a well-known lodging-house situated in one of the streets leading out of the one in which he had regaled himself so sumptuously.
Upon his arriving at the establishment in question he found that externally it did not present a very inviting appearance.
It was a low large building, which he at once boldly entered. At the side of the passage there was a glass window drawn up, and a kind of ledger or counter, on which were two piles of small round tickets. Behind the counter was a small room just large enough to hold a deformed old man, and a brawny forbidding-looking woman—some such woman as Eugene Sue describes in the “Mysteries of Paris” as the “Ogress.” The title would apply with equal force to the Westminster landlady.
“Now then, young shaver,” cried the man, “what’s your pleasure, fourpenny or twopenny, eh? Twopenny, I suppose,” he added, glancing at the lad.
“No, guv’nor,” returned the latter, “I want a fourpenny.”
“Oh, you’re one of the haristocratic customers—are you?” said the man, in a jocular tone.
“You’d better make him fork out. I should like to see his money first,” cried the woman, folding her arms across her breast like an Amazon.
“Now then, boy, down with the dust,” said the man.
Alf fumbled in his pocket; he wanted to keep a penny in his pocket for a loaf in the morning. He drew forth threepence.