“I don’t mind if I do,” replied the other.
When the drinks were served, Philpot, instead of paying for them, winked significantly at the landlord, who nodded silently and unobtrusively made an entry in an account book that was lying on one of the shelves. Although it was only Monday and he had been at work all the previous week, Philpot was already stony broke. This was accounted for by the fact that on Saturday he had paid his landlady something on account of the arrears of board and lodging money that had accumulated while he was out of work; and he had also paid the Old Dear four shillings for drinks obtained on tick during the last week.
“Well, ’ere’s the skin orf yer nose,” said Crass, nodding to Philpot, and taking a long pull at the pint glass which the latter had handed to him.
Similar appropriate and friendly sentiments were expressed by the others and suitably acknowledged by Philpot, the founder of the feast.
The Old Dear now put a penny in the slot of the polyphone, and winding it up started it playing. It was some unfamiliar tune, but when the Semi-drunk Painter heard it he rose unsteadily to his feet and began shuffling and dancing about, singing:
“Oh, we’ll inwite you to the wedding,
An’ we’ll ’ave a glorious time!
Where the boys an’ girls is a-dancing,
An’ we’ll all get drunk on wine.”
“’Ere! that’s quite enough o’ that!” cried the landlord, roughly. “We don’t want that row ’ere.”
The Semi-drunk stopped, and looking stupidly at the Old Dear, sank abashed on to the seat again.
“Well, we may as well sit as stand—for a few minutes,” remarked Crass, suiting the action to the word. The others followed his example.
At frequent intervals the bar was entered by fresh customers, most of them working men on their way home, who ordered and drank their pint or half-pint of ale or porter and left at once. Bundy began reading the advertisement of the circus and menageries and a conversation ensued concerning the wonderful performances of the trained animals. The Old Dear said that some of them had as much sense as human beings, and the manner with which he made this statement implied that he thought it was a testimonial to the sagacity of the brutes. He further said that he had heard—a little earlier in the evening—a rumour that one of the wild animals, a bear or something, had broken loose and was at present at large. This was what he had heard—he didn’t know if it were true or not. For his own part he didn’t believe it, and his hearers agreed that it was highly improbable. Nobody ever knew how these silly yarns got about.