"Same as usual," answered Bet. "This is about the best beat in Liverpool, and the gentlemen know me. I always give them their papers clean."
Just then a customer came up who wanted an Evening Echo. The Echo was a halfpenny paper. He gave Bet a penny, who returned him a halfpenny change. When this customer had departed the black-eyed girl burst into a fit of laughter.
"Well, you are a flat, Bet Granger," she said—"the greenest of the green. What can a gent like that want with a ha'penny? When I sells evening papers—and I've made a good thing of them round Lime Street—I never has no change; that's my way."
"Is it?" said Bet. "Well honesty's my way. I've nearly sold my papers now, Louisa, so I'll say 'good-night.'"
"Do tell me what you made first. I ha' a mind to have a new beat—what will you sell me yourn for?"
"Sell my beat?" said Bet—"my beat, what mother bought for me? Not quite."
She turned on her heel, and walked down the street. At the corner, to her great annoyance and vexation, she met her father. He was quite sober, and came up to her at once and put his hand through her arm. His small eyes looked keenly into her face. When he was sober he was more or less afraid of Bet.
"So you give me the slip, my gel!" he said. "But I'm a bit too cute for that sort of game. You'd better tell me where you ha' put those two little boys of mine. They're my boys, not yourn, you may as well understand. Where have you them hiding, Bet? I'll find out; so you may as well tell me."
"I don't mind telling you, father. They're with Mother Bunch in Paradise Row—she have the care of them now. And, listen, father—they're going to stay there. Ef you want the boys, you must get round Mother Bunch first."
Granger's face grew purple. For some reason, this piece of information was most disconcerting to him.