“‘Ho,’ ses Ginger, pricking up his ears, ‘wot for?’
“‘I was just talking to ’im about my boy, same as I might be to you,’ ses the old lady, ‘and I was just telling ’im about the poor child losing ’is finger——’
“‘Losing ’is wot?’ ses Ginger, turning pale and staggering back.
“‘Finger,’ ses the landlady. ’E was only ten years old at the time, and I’d sent ’im out to—Wot’s the matter? Ain’t you well?’
“Ginger didn’t answer ’er a word, he couldn’t. ’E went on going backwards until ’e got to the door, and then ’e suddenly fell through it into the street, and tried to think.
“Then ’e remembered Sam and Peter, and when ’e thought of them safe and sound aboard the Penguin he nearly broke down altogether, as ’e thought how lonesome he was.
“All ’e wanted was ’is arms round both their necks same as they was the night afore they ’ad ’im tattooed.”
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
The old man sat outside the Cauliflower Inn, looking crossly up the road. He was fond of conversation, but the pedestrian who had stopped to drink a mug of ale beneath the shade of the doors was not happy in his choice of subjects. He would only talk of the pernicious effects of beer on the constitutions of the aged, and he listened with ill-concealed impatience to various points which the baffled ancient opposite urged in its favour.
Conversation languished; the traveller rapped on the table and had his mug refilled. He nodded courteously to his companion and drank.