“Ruddle and Lister.”
“Commercial printers.”
“Com-mer-cial prin-ters.”
“Short Street, Fetter Lane.”
“Fetter Lane.”
“And now let’s look.” I handed him the scrap of paper.
“Why, it’s lovely. Copper-plate’s nothing to it, young un. There, you go up and see him, and tell him you’ve come up to London to make your fortune, and he’ll help you, I went up to London to make mine, young un.”
“And did you make it, sir?” I said eagerly. He looked down at his shabby clothes, smoothed his hair, and then, with a curious smile upon his face—
“No, young un, I didn’t make it. I made something else instead.”
“Did you, sir?”