Jacob's account of the noise was scarcely exaggerated. It penetrated to where they stood, two or three houses off. William had moved closer, that the umbrella might give Cross part of its shelter. "Not a very sensible wish, that of yours, is it, Cross?" remarked he.
"I have wished it long, sir, sensible or not sensible. I slaves away my days and have nothing but a pigsty to step into at home, and angry words in it. A nice place for a tired man! I can't afford the public more than three or four nights a-week; not that, always. They're getting corky at the beer-shops, nowadays, and won't give trust. Wednesday this is; Thursday, to-morrow; Friday, next night: three nights, and me without a shelter to put my head in!"
"I should like to take you to one to-morrow night," said William. "Will you go with me?"
"Where to?" ungraciously asked Cross.
"To Robert East's. You know how he and Crouch spend their evenings. There's always something going on there interesting and pleasant."
"Crouch and East don't want me."
"Yes, they do. They will be only too glad if you, and a few more intelligent men, will join them. Try it, Cross. There's a warm room to sit in, at all events, and nothing to pay."
"Ah, it's all very fine for them Easts! We haven't their luck. Look at me! Down in the world."
William put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Why should you be down in the world?"
"Why should I?" repeated Cross, in surprise. "Because I am," he logically answered.