The information was too much for Albert. He withdrew the sweetmeat from his mouth, screwed up his face, and suddenly burst into a howl. 'Ow!' he bellowed; 'Bill's goin' back to 'is ship! Bill's goin' back!' It was a matter of some importance to him, for the presence of his elder brother meant an occasional honorarium of one penny, and one penny meant a plentiful supply of nougat. His little soul delighted in nougat. His mother never gave him pennies.
'Stop yer 'owlin', Albert!' Mrs Martin ordered severely. 'Has if I 'adn't enough to think about without listenin' to yer noise!—Bill,' she went on, glancing at the clock, 'you'd best be off. The Lunnon train stops at the station at eleven-forty-four, same one yer uncle Charles come by yesterday. There's not another till the arternoon. The clock's a bit fast, but it's about quarter-past eleven now, an' the station's a good couple o' miles.'
''Strewth!' muttered Pincher, darting from the room, 'I'll 'ave ter run.' He went to his bedroom, collected his few belongings, and presently reappeared with an oilskin over his shoulder and a small blue bundle in his hand.
Albert, with his mouth wide open, gazed at him tearfully.
'S' long, ma,' Pincher said, putting his arm round his mother's neck and kissing her gently. 'Say good-bye ter farther w'en 'e comes 'ome, an' th' kids w'en they gits back from school.'
'Good-bye, son. Good luck to yer,' she answered, drawing his head down and embracing him, with the tears in her eyes. 'I do 'ope it's not nothin' serious. Write an' let me know 'ow yer gets on.'
'Right you are, ma.—S'long, Halbert,' he went on cheerfully, bending down and kissing his small brother. 'Be a good boy, now, an' don't git worritin' ma, now I'm goin'.'
The tears streamed down the youngster's cheeks. He began to whimper loudly.
'Be a good boy, I tells yer,' Pincher went on, patting him. 'If ma writes an' tells me you've be'aved yerself I'll send yer another penny nex' week. If yer don't, yer won't git no penny—see? Gosh!' he added hastily, 'it's 'igh time I wus orf.' He gave his mother another hurried kiss, and a second later was out of the cottage and racing down the road as fast as his legs would carry him. The shrieks of the inconsolable Albert pursued him.
Mrs Martin watched him till he gave a final wave before disappearing round a bend in the lane, and then returned to admonish her small son. 'Ye're a naughty boy, ye are!' she scolded shrilly. 'If yer don't stop it I'll put yer across my knee an' give yer wot for; straight, I will! Stop it. D'you 'ear wot I say?'