"No offence, guv'nor; mistakes will occur."
William could not help laughing, and he sent Teddy upstairs for Monday's paper. He pointed out that eight to one was being asked for about the horse on Monday afternoon at Tattersall's. The stage door-keeper and a scene-shifter had just come over from the theatre, and had managed to force their way into the jug and bottle entrance. Esther and Charles had been selling beer and spirits as fast as they could draw it, but the disputed bet had caused the company to forget their glasses.
"Just one more drink," said the young man. "Take the ten half-crowns out in drinks, guv'nor, that's good enough. What do you say, guv'nor?"
"What, ten half-crowns?" William answered angrily. "Haven't I shown you that the 'orse was backed at Tattersall's the day you made the bet at eight to one?"
"Ten to one, guv'nor."
"I've not time to go on talking…. You're interfering with my business.
You must get out of my bar."
"Who'll put me out?"
"Charles, go and fetch a policeman."
At the word "policeman" the young man seemed to recover his wits somewhat, and he answered, "You'll bring in no bloody policeman. Fetch a policeman! and what about your blooming betting—what will become of it?" William looked round to see if there was any in the bar whom he could not trust. He knew everyone present, and believed he could trust them all. There was but one thing to do, and that was to put on a bold face and trust to luck. "Now out you go," he said, springing over the counter, "and never you set your face inside my bar again." Charles followed the guv'nor over the counter like lightning, and the drunkard was forced into the street. "He don't mean no 'arm," said one of the friends; "he'll come round to-morrow and apologise for what he's said."
"I don't want his apology," said William. "No one shall call me a welsher in my bar…. Take your friend away, and never let me see him in my bar again."