“Yes; what’s yourn?”
“Antony.”
“Ho!”
There was silence after this, for we came up to another lock, close by which was a little public-house, where Jack was sent to get a stone bottle filled with beer, and up to whose door he summoned me, and we partook of our half-pint of cider, Jack proving most honourable as to his ideas of half.
Then the beer having been passed on board, Jack’s mother and father taking not the slightest notice of me, the barge was passed through the lock, and Jack beckoned and waved his hand.
“You give me the twopence, and I’ll buy,” he said. “If we ask Mother Burke for twopen’orth all at once she won’t give us more than she would for a penny. Stop a moment,” he said, “you only give me a penny, and we’ll keep t’other for to-morrow.”
I handed a penny to him, and we went into the lock cottage, in whose lattice window were displayed two bottles of ginger-beer, a couple of glasses of sugar-sticks, and a pile of apples.
Our penny in that out-of-the-way place bought us a dozen good apples, and these we munched behind the horses as we trudged on slowly, mile after mile.
I did not feel tired now, and we boys found so much to talk about that the time went rapidly by. Jack’s father and mother did not trouble themselves about my being there, but towards six o’clock handed the boy out his tea in a bottle, whose neck stuck out of the basket that had held his dinner, and in which were some half a dozen slices of bread and butter.
“’Tain’t full,” said Jack, holding the bottle up to the light; “she might ha’ filled it. There is more brem-butter. Never mind, I’ll fill it up with water. You won’t mind?”