“Found you a road leading to a job,” amended Mr. Dobb. “I can put you on it, but you must walk up it yourself. ’Ow do you like the hidea of going around with a milk-cart?”
“Not much,” frankly returned Mr. Lock.
“It’ll do you all right to go on with,” urged Mr. Dobb. “You’ve got to find something to do, ain’t you?”
“Peter Lock in a milk-cart!” marvelled Mr. Tridge. “A milk-cart! Don’t that just show you what a rum world this is?”
“I shan’t half get chaffed!” foretold Mr. Lock.
“You needn’t keep it longer than it takes you to find a better job,” pointed out Mr. Dobb. “Meanwhile, you’ll be remaining in Shore’aven ’ere, and we shall all be in touch with each other, like what we’ve always planned on.”
“But a milk-cart!” protested Mr. Lock. “Now, if it ’ad been a wine and spirit shop—”
“Think of all the pretty gals you’ll be ’anding in cans to!” recommended Mr. Dobb. “Everything’s got its bright side.”
“Come to think of it, it ain’t such a bad job,” agreed Mr. Lock, brightening. “When do I start?”
“You’ve got to get the job first,” Mr. Dobb reminded him. “You’ll ’ave to play up for it very careful and polite and artful, and that’s why I thought it was a better chance for you than for Joe, there. There’s a old geezer, a Mrs. Golightly, what you’ll ’ave to be hextra special hattentive to. ’Er ’usband runs a grocery shop, and she’s going to start the dairy business as a side-line in a week or two. You play your cards right, and the job is yours for the asking. You see, you’re going to do the old geezer a favour before she knows what you’re after, and that’s always a big ’elp.”