Bill. That ain't so bad, acause you can shoulder your box and trudge. But if it's all the same to you, Mattie, I'd rayther enj'y life: they say it's short.
Mat. But it ain't the same to me. It's so bad for you to be idle, Bill!
Bill. Not as I knows on. I'm tollable jolly, so long's I gets the browns for my bed.
Mat. Wouldn't you like a bed with a blanket to it?
Bill. Well, yes—if it was guv to me. But I don't go in for knocking of yourself about, to sleep warm.
Mat. Well, look here, Bill. It's all Susan and I can do to pay for our room, and get a bit of bread and a cup of tea. It ain't enough.—If you were to earn a few pence now—
Bill. Oh golly! I never thought o' that. What a hass I wur, to be sure! I'll go a shoe-blackin' to-morror—I will.
Mat. Did you ever black a shoe, Bill?
Bill. I tried a boot oncet—when Jim wor a blackin' for a day or two. But I made nothink on it—nothink worth mentionin'. The blackin' or som'at was wrong. The gen'leman said it wur coal-dust, an he'd slog me, an' adwised me to go an' learn my trade.
Mat. And what did you say to that?