“I’ve tried ’em all,” said Ginger despondently, “an’ none of ’em’ll give me a penny.”
William with a flourish brought out his half a crown.
“This’ll do for both of us,” he said with a lordly air.
“Crumbs!” said Ginger, with respect and admiration in his voice. “Who d’you get that out of?”
“Well, a man came to stay at our house——” began William.
Ginger’s respect and admiration vanished.
“Oh, a visitor!” he said disparagingly. “’S easy enough to get money out of a visitor.”
“’F you think this was easy,” began William with deep feeling, then stopped.
It was a long story and already retreating into the limbo of the past. He could not sully the golden present by a lengthy repetition of it. It had been jolly hard work while it lasted, but now it was over and done with. It belonged to the past. The present included a breathless run into the village, leaping backwards and forwards across the ditches, a race down the village streets and TOPS—glorious tops—superior shilling-each tops with sixpence over.
He uttered his shrill, discordant war-whoop.