Scratcher's tone implied that Napolini's was literally running with soup and potatoes.
"Don't go on, Scratcher," said Bindle mournfully; "see wot you're a-doin' to pore Ole Ging."
"Then there's macaroni," continued Scratcher relentlessly, "them bein' I-talians. Long strings o' white stuff, there ain't much taste; but it fills up." Scratcher paused, then added reflectively, "You got to be careful wi' macaroni, or it'll get down your collar; it's that slippery."
"I suppose ole Nap ain't wantin' anyone to 'elp mop up all them things?" enquired Bindle wistfully.
Scratcher looked at Bindle interrogatingly.
"D'you think you could find your ole pal a job at Nap's?" enquired Bindle.
"You come down to-morrow mornin' about eleven," said Scratcher with the air of one conferring a great favour. "Three of our chaps was sacked a-Saturday for fightin'."
"Well, I must be movin'," said Bindle, as he picked up the blue and white jug with the crimson butterfly. "You'll see me round at Nap's at eleven to-morrow, Scratcher, as empty as a drum;" and with a "s'long," Bindle passed out of The Yellow Ostrich.
"Nice time you've kept me waiting!" snapped Mrs. Bindle, as Bindle entered the kitchen.
"Sorry!" was Bindle's reply as he hung up his hat behind the kitchen-door.