The court was only a few feet wide, and the occupants of the opposing houses could easily have carried on a conversation from the open windows; but these occupants seemed to be too busy, for in the glimpses he obtained as they passed, Frank caught sight of workmen in paper caps and dirty white aprons, and boys hurrying to and fro, carrying packets of paper.
But he had not much opportunity for noticing what business was being carried on, for they soon reached the end of the court, where a fresh group of men were standing listening to a speaker holding forth from an open window, and the lad fully expected a similar scene to that which had taken place in the main street.
But people made way here, and Andrew, apparently quite at home, turned to the left along a very dirty lane, plunged into another court, and in and out two or three times in silence, along what seemed to the boy fresh from quaint old Winchester a perfect maze.
“I say, Drew,” he said at last, “you must have been here before.”
“I? Oh yes! I know London pretty well. Now down here.”
He plunged sharply now round a corner and into the wide court he had at first made for, but now from its northern end. So quick and sudden was the movement made that the two lads, before they could realise the fact, found themselves in another crowd, which filled this court from end to end. The people composing it were principally of the rough class they had seen grouped at the lower part, but fully half were workmen in their shirt sleeves, many of them with faces blackened by their occupation, while a smaller portion was well-dressed, and kept on moving about and talking earnestly to the people around.
“Too late,” said Andrew, half to himself.
“Yes; we shall have to go round and reach the street farther along,” said Frank quietly. “We don’t want to push through there.”
“But it’s here I want to see my friend.”
“Does he live in this place?”