'Gawn out.'
'Comin' back soon?'
'Not yut. Come in the back-parlour.'
There Mr Weech, with ingenuous reluctance, assured Mr Grinder that Dicky Perrott had importuned him to buy the goods in question at the prices he had mentioned, together with others—readily named now that the oil-man swallowed so freely—and that they were to be delivered and paid for at night when Dicky left work. But perhaps, Mr Weech concluded, parading an obstinate belief in human nature, perhaps the boy, being new to the business, had mistaken the prices, and was merely doing his best to push his master's trade.
'No fear o' that,' said Grinder, shaking his head gloomily. 'Not the least fear o' that. 'E knows the cheapest doormats I got's one an' six—I 'eard him tell customers so outside a dozen times; an' anyone can see the smoke-jacks is ticketed five an 'nine'—as Mr Weech had seen, when he spoke of them. 'I thought that boy was too eager an' willin' to be quite genavin,' Dicky's master went on. ''E ain't 'ad me yut, that's one comfort: if anythin' 'ud bin gawn I'd 'a' missed it. But out 'e goes as soon as 'e comes back: you can take yer davy o' that!'
'Ah,' replied Mr Weech, 'it's fearful the wickedness there is about, ain't it? It's enough to break yer 'art. Sich a neighb'r'ood, too! Wy, if it was known as I'd give you this 'ere little friendly information, bein' in business meself an' knowin' wot it is, my life wouldn't be safe a hower. It wouldn't, Mr Grinder.'
'Wouldn't it?' said Mr Grinder. 'You mean them in the Jago, I s'pose.'
'Yus. They're a awful lot, Mr Grinder—you've no idear. The father o' this 'ere boy as I've warned you aginst, 'e's in with a desprit gang, an' they'd murder me if they thought I'd come an' told you honest, w'en you might 'a' bin robbed, as is my nature to. They would indeed. So o' course you won't say wot I toldjer, nor 'oo give you this 'ere honourable friendly warnin'—not to nobody.'
'That's awright,' answered the simple Grinder, 'I won't let on. But out 'e goes, promp'. I'm obliged to ye, Mr Weech. Er—r wot'll ye take?'
Weech put away the suggestion with a virtuous palm:—'Nothink at all, Mr Grinder, thanks all the same. I never touch nothink; an' I'm glad to—to do any moral job, so to speak, as comes in my way. 'Scatter seeds o' kindness' you know, as the—the Psalm says, Mr Grinder. Your boy ain't back, is 'e?'