“Glad we ain’t got many of your sickening sort ’ere; snivelling school-boy brats, that’s what you are, tired of pickin’ pockets, and think you’re goin’ to show us your manners. Yah! if you wasn’t such a dirty ugly pair of puppy dogs I’d stick you under the pump—so I would.”
Reginald yawned, and walked off to watch a compositor picking up type out of a case. Horace, on the other hand, appeared to be deeply interested in Mr Barber’s eloquent observations, and inquired quite artlessly, but with a twinkle in his eye,—“Is the pump near here? I was looking for it everywhere yesterday.”
It was Mr Barber’s turn to stare. He had not expected this, and he did not like it, especially when one or two of the men and boys near, who had failed to be convulsed by his wit, laughed at Horace’s question.
After all, moral flagellation does not always answer, and when one of the victims yawns and the other asks a matter-of-fact questions it is disconcerting even to an accomplished operator. However, Barber gallantly determined on one more effort.
“Ugh—trying to be funny, are you, Mr Snubnose? Best try and be honest if you can, you and your mealy-mug brother. It’ll be ’ard work, I know, to keep your ’ands in your own pockets, but you’d best do it, do you ’ear—pair of psalm-singin’ twopenny-ha’penny puppy dogs!”
This picturesque peroration certainly deserved some recognition, and might possibly have received it, had not Mr Durfy’s entrance at that particular moment sent the idlers back suddenly to their cases.
Reginald, either heedless of or unconcerned at the new arrival, remained listlessly watching the operations of the compositor near him, an act of audacity which highly exasperated the overseer, and furnished the key-note for the day’s entertainment.
For Mr Durfy, to use an expressive term, had “got out of bed the wrong side” this morning. For the matter of that, after the blowing-up about the back case-room, he had got into it the wrong side last night, so that he was doubly perturbed in spirit, and a short conversation he had just had with the manager below had not tended to compose him.
“Durfy,” said that brusque official, as the overseer passed his open door, “come in. What about those two lads I sent up to you yesterday? Are they any good?”
“Not a bit,” growled Mr Durfy; “fools both of them.”