Ginger couldn't answer; and Sam Small and Peter sat up in bed alongside of 'im, and Bill, getting as far back on 'is bed as he could, sat staring at their pore faces as if 'e was having a 'orrible dream.
"And there's Sam," he ses. "Where ever did you get that mouth, Sam?"
"Same place as Ginger got 'is eye and pore Peter got 'is face," ses Sam, grinding his teeth.
"You don't mean to tell me," ses Bill, in a sad voice—"you don't mean to tell me that I did it?"
"You know well enough," ses Ginger.
Bill looked at 'em, and 'is face got as long as a yard measure.
"I'd 'oped I'd growed out of it, mates," he ses, at last, "but drink always takes me like that. I can't keep a pal."
"You surprise me," ses Ginger, sarcastic-like. "Don't talk like that, Ginger," ses Bill, 'arf crying.
"It ain't my fault; it's my weakness. Wot did I do it for?"
"I don't know," ses Ginger, "but you won't get the chance of doing it agin, I'll tell you that much."