“Quite enough, anyhow,” said the constable, clapping Esau on the shoulder; “and you take my advice, don’t you go back to him.”
“No,” said Esau; “he wouldn’t have us if we wanted.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
“Join the Royal Artillery,” said Esau, importantly.
“Join the Royal Nonsense, boy!” said the big, bluff constable. “Better be a p.c. than that. Plenty of gents in the city want clerks.”
“Then,” said Esau, “they shan’t have me.”
But he did not say it loud enough for the constable to hear, the words being meant for me, and after once more shaking hands with us the man said, “Good-bye,” and we were out in the busy streets once more—as it seemed to me, the only two lads in London with nothing to do.
I was walking along by Esau’s side, low-spirited in spite of our acquittal, for everything seemed so novel and strange, when Esau, who had been whistling, looked round at me.
“Now then,” he said, “will you come with me?”
“Where?”