So they reached the Cockchafer. Here Stephen, whose former visits had all been to the lock-house, pulled up.
“I say,” said he, “is this a public-house?”
“Getting on that way,” said Mr Cripps.
“We aren’t allowed to go in public-houses,” said Stephen, “it’s one of the rules.”
“Ah, quite right too; not a good thing for boys at all. We’ll go in by the private door into my house,” said Mr Cripps.
Stephen was not quite comfortable at this evasion, but followed Mr Cripps by the side door into his bar parlour.
“You won’t forget the paper,” he said, “please. I’ve got to be back in school directly.”
“I’ll have a look for it. Now, I guess you like ginger-beer, don’t you?”
Stephen was particularly partial to ginger-beer, as it happened, and said so.
“That’s the style,” said Mr Cripps, producing a bottle. “Walk into that while I go and get the paper.”