Rolling a little drearily along, they saw Jimmie Short standing on the pavement watching them.
"Hello, mates!" he said. "Still going strong?"
"Fireproof!" said Tom.
"Remember barging into me this morning? And my best girl was just coming round the corner with her Ma! Had to mind my company, eh, boys. But come an' have a drink now.—I seem to have seen you before to-day, haven't I? Where was it?"
"Don't try and think," said Tom. "Y' might do us out of a pony."
"Righto! old golddust! Step over on to the Bar-parlour mat."
"I'm stepping," said Tom. "'N I'm not drunk."
"No, he's not," said Jack.
"You bet he's not," said Jimmie. He was eyeing them curiously as if his memory pricked him.
"My name," said Tom, "is Ned Kelly. And if yours isn't Jimmie Miller, what is it?"