It is a good policy for strangers, as soon as they enter a lodging-house kitchen, to not only speak pleasantly to the deputy, but to slip a penny into his hand, so that they may be installed on an equal footing with "narks." Men that do not think of doing this must not be surprised if he "accidentally" overturns their teapots, or shovels coke into their frying-pans. These little accidents always add to the gaiety of "narks," and they the more generously reward the deputy for affording them this extra entertainment.
I was in one lodging-house in the provinces that only had accommodation for twelve lodgers, and in that house were six "narks" and the deputy. The night I was there, there were only three strangers, myself and two others, and we were almost afraid to move. One "nark" was a rag-and-bone man, who worked the country for miles around. While I was eating my frugal supper, he spread on the table his dirty rags and bones—so near that one bone was found on my plate, which I returned to him—with many thanks. Seeing that the deputy appeared quite satisfied, I dared not say much, for if I got into trouble and had my money returned, there was not another lodging-house within six miles.
Another "nark" was a drunken drover, who left a saucepan on the fire while he went out for a drink. When he returned he said that there were only four potatoes and a half in the saucepan, whereas he had put in five. It never occurred to his suspicious mind that one potato had become small in the extra boiling, and we three strangers had to tolerate his savage looks.
Another "nark" was a blacksmith, who was out of work. This man was lying drunk at full length on a bench, so that the two strangers had to wait until I had finished my meal before they could get a seat at the table, for, with the exception of the drover, all the other "narks" had had their supper.
The blacksmith had not paid his rent for two or three nights, and the landlady—a very old woman—had ordered the deputy not to allow him to go to bed. While I was asleep that night, I was suddenly awaked by a slap on the face, and a croaking voice, which said—"Out of my house, blacksmith." When I opened my eyes, I saw an old withered face bending over mine—there must have been a hundred years in that face. "I am not the blacksmith," I said feebly. "Liar," she shrieked, holding the candle near my face. However, she saw her mistake, and went away muttering, without making any apology for her mistake. No stranger would ever think of staying two nights in a house like that.
Of course, in a house where there is only one "nark," he tries to ingratiate himself with casual men, for the sake of social company, but they do not encourage his advances, knowing how careful they must be of what they say. They are suspicious of him, in spite of his good-natured offers to oblige them with a shake of pepper. By the way, the sight of a pepper-box in a lodging-house kitchen is always a sure sign that the man behind it is a "nark." Wanderers, however much trouble they take to carry tea, salt, soap, thread, needle, comb, and many other little things which must not interfere with space for food—would never think of carrying a pepper-box, though they may carry a little pepper in paper.
No, a "nark" is not a desirable companion, and to inform a tramp that he is going to a house that is full of them, is to daunt him more than to say that the teapots are spoutless and cracked, the saucers have no rims, the beds are dirty, and that the fire is small and often out.
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