“Oh, ain’t you a rum ’un! As if you didn’t know he’s been beaked.”
“Beaked! what’s that?”
The boy looked disgusted at the fellow’s obtuseness.
“’Ad up in the p’lice-court, of course. What else could I mean?”
Samuel jumped off his stool as if he had been electrified.
“What do you say?” said he, gaping wildly at the boy.
“Go on; if you’re deaf, it’s no use talkin’ to you. He’s been up in the p’lice-court,” said he, raising his voice to a shout. “Yesterday—there you are—and there’s your drops, and you ain’t give me the penny for them.”
Samuel threw down the penny, and, too excited to take up the drops, dashed out into the street.
What! yesterday—while he was lounging about town, fancying he had the game all to himself. Was ever luck like his?
He rushed to a shop and bought a morning paper. There, sure enough, was a short notice of yesterday’s proceedings, and you might have knocked S.S. down with a feather as he read it.