In a moment the boy had returned.
“Yer ought ter be griteful,” he said, “I’ve sived yer a lickin.”
“Thank you,” said George warmly, with his mouth full. He had found himself able to munch the bread, and it did him good.
The boy lingered; he took the same interest in the stowaway that he might have taken in an animal at the Zoological Gardens, and the episode broke the monotony of his fourth voyage.
“Yer’ll ketch it at Parham!” he said in a cheery tone.
George did not understand. “Why Parham?” he asked weakly.
“Coz that’s where they’ll land yer. That’s where they’ll put yer shore. They’ll ave the cops there roight on the quay wytin for yer, and they’ll put yer ahverboard in the little dinghy, they wull: they wahn’t thrah yer bundle arter ye, anforwhoy? acause yer arn’t got none. But they’ll send one of th’ orficers and ee’ll and yer ahver ter th’ cops, and ee’ll sye: ‘ee’s been very vilent’—that’s what ee’ll sye; that’s what they said wiv the larst un; and they clapped th’ darbies on im ... saw em meself,” continued the boy most untruthfully. Then not knowing his man and going a step too far, he continued: “Ee was ung, ee was: ung in Lewes Gaol,” he ended, to give the story point and finish.
The poor pedantry of maps does not weigh upon the governing classes of this country, and Demaine might have had some difficulty in answering in an examination exactly where Parham lay, but he knew that it was on the south coast, he knew one reached it easily in an hour or two from London, because he had gone to golf there. He knew that there was a good motor track between the harbour and Highcliff, and altogether Parham sounded to him like an echo from now forgotten, dearer, and long dead days. He affected indifference.
“Well,” he said, “it’s all the same to me.”
“Ah,” said the boy, not ready to relinquish the delicious morsel, “sah yer sye! Ut wahn’t be th’ syme tomorrermornin’.”