‘Bless you, there’s work for everyone as wants to work. See that chimney down there, that biggun? That’s Boffin’s, where I was. Three and fifty years I worked at Boffin’s.’
‘Was it a happy life?’ asked Miss Briscoe.
‘Happy? Bless you, the times I’ve had there when I was a youngster. Always up to larks. There’s three of my grandsons there now.’
Miss Briscoe admired his furrowed, placid face. ‘Take this,’ she whispered.
The old man looked coldly at a shilling.
‘No, thanky ... but if the gentleman has some tabacca on him, I could do with a bit.’
As they neared the bottom of the hill, Mr. Cato came hurrying towards them. There were tears in his eyes, and wet hollows in his cheeks.
‘Well, Dwala my boy, I’ve brought you news. You’re going into London to-night, to your new home.’
Dwala put up his face to the sky and laughed again.