“Yes: honour.”
“Honour bright—gen’leman’s honour?”
“Yes,” said Vince emphatically.
“Let him say it too,” growled Daygo.
“Honour bright, Joe,” said Mike.
“Oh, very well, then; I s’pose I must say no more about it,” grumbled the old man; “but I’m disappynted—that I am. I thought it were they Carnachs, and I’d made up my mind to give it the young ’un and make him sore. It’s such a pity, too. I cut them two feet o’ rope off a ring a-purpose to lay it on to him. I owe him ever so much, and it seemed to be such a chance.”
“Save it for next time, Joe,” said Vince, as Mike looked on rather uneasily, for the old man kept on playing with the end of the rope.
“Eh? Save it for next time?” he said thoughtfully. “Well, I might do that, for the young ’un’s sure to give me a chance, and then it won’t be wasted. Yes, I’ll hang it up over the fireplace at home, ready agen it’s wanted. But you two’ll bring me that five shilling to-night?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Ay, course you will,” said the old man slowly.