“Well, Billy,” said Smith, “are you ready for me?” Billy grinned all over his face, as he replied, “Yaas,” and at once fell-to work.
Hawkesbury watched the incident with interest, not quite sure what to make of it, and rather taken aback to have our walk thus abruptly stopped.
“Old gal’s bolted agin,” observed Billy, in the middle of his task. “’Ave any of you blokes saw her?”
“No,” said Smith, “when did she go?”
“Last night,” said Billy. “She give me a dose fust, and when I came round, if she ain’t sloped along of all my browns. She’s a rum un.”
Poor Billy, what a picture of his domestic life was this!
“Bless you, though,” continued he, breathing hard on to the toes of Jack’s boot, “she’ll turn up. When she’s done them browns she’ll step round for more. Bless her old soul!”
“You ought to keep your money where she can’t find it,” suggested Jack.
“’Tain’t no concern of yourn where I keep my brass. Oh, my eye, there’s a nob!” cried he, suddenly perceiving Hawkesbury, who all this time had been looking on and listening in bewilderment. “Shin’e boots next, cap’n? Oh my, ain’t he a topper?”
This last appeal was made to Jack, whose boots were now clean, and who, of course, did not reply.