“Eh? Well, I couldn’t quite make it out.”
“They are always chaffing me about something,” I said.
“Then it was all a make-up of Wallop’s about what you owed?”
“Well, no—not exactly. The fact is, I do owe one or two little accounts.”
“Do you?” said Jack. “It’s a pity.”
I did not quite like the tone in which he said this. It may have been that my conscience was not quite clear as to my own straightforwardness in this matter. I was not obliged to tell him everything, to be sure; but then, no more was I obliged to try to deceive him when I did tell him. At any rate, I felt a trifle irritated, and the rest of our walk proceeded in silence till we reached Style Street. Here we found Billy at his old sport, but evidently expecting us.
“Shine ’e boots, governor!” cried he, with a profound grin.
Jack put his foot upon the box, and the young artist fell-to work instantly.
“I’ll stroll on,” I said, out of humour, and anxious to be alone.
“All serene!” replied Jack, solemnly as usual.