"'For every one was drunk last night,
And drunk the night before;
And if we don't get drunk to-night,
We don't get drunk no more.
(Chorus.)
"'Now you will have a drink with me,
And I will drink with you;
For we're the very rowdiest lot
Of the rowdy Irish crew.'
"That's what we used to sing in the Lane, yer know; should 'ave seen the coster gals with their feathers, dancing and clinking their pewters. Rippin Day, Bank 'oliday, Epping, under the trees—'ow they did romp, them gals!
"'We all was roaring drunk last night,
And drunk the night before;
And if we don't get drunk to-night,
We won't get drunk no more.'
"Girls and boys, you know, all together."
"Sarah, listen to me."
"Listen! Come and have a drink, old gal, just another drink." She staggered up to the counter. "One more, just for luck; do yer 'ear?" Before Charles could stop her she had seized the whisky that had just been served. "That's my whisky," exclaimed Journeyman. He made a rapid movement, but was too late. Sarah had drained the glass and stood vacantly looking into space. Journeyman seemed so disconcerted at the loss of his whisky that every one laughed.
A few moments after Sarah staggered forward and fell insensible into his arms. He and Esther carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed in the spare room.
"She'll be precious bad to-morrow," said Journeyman.