"That's tiptop!" the boy said. "Yer're a good sort, I could see that, and I am pretty empty, I am, for I aint had nothing except that bit of duff yer gave me since morning, and I only had a crust then. 'Cept for running against you I aint been lucky to-day. Couldn't get a job nohows, and it aint for want of trying neither."
For some minutes the boys ate in silence. George had given much the largest portion to his companion, for he himself was too dead tired to be very hungry. When he had finished, he said:
"Look here, Bill; we will talk in the morning. I am so dead beat I can scarcely keep my eyes open, so I will just say my prayers and go off to sleep."
"Say your prayers!" Bill said in astonishment. "Do yer mean to say as yer says prayers!"
"Of course I do," George replied; "don't you?"
"Never said one in my life," Bill said decidedly; "don't know how, don't see as it would do no good ef I did."
"It would do good, Bill," George said. "I hope some day you will think differently, and I will teach you some you will like."
"I don't want to know none," Bill said positively. "A missionary chap, he came and prayed with an old woman I lodged with once. I could not make head nor tail of it, and she died just the same, so you see what good did it do her?"
But George was too tired to enter upon a theological argument. He was already half asleep, and Bill's voice sounded a long way off.
"Good-night," he muttered; "I will talk to you in the morning," and in another minute he was fast asleep.