“If you ain’t back in arf an hour, Peter,” ’e ses, scowling at ’im, “you’ll ’ear from me, I can tell you.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” ses Isaac, with a smile. “I’m going to take ’em.”
“You?” ses Ginger; “but you can’t. You ain’t got no clothes.”
“I’m going to wear Peter’s,” ses Isaac, with a smile.
Peter asked ’im to listen to reason, but it was all no good. He’d got the pawn-ticket, and at last Peter, forgetting all he’d said to Ginger Dick about using bad langwidge, took ’is clothes off, one by one, and dashed ’em on the floor, and told Isaac some of the things ’e thought of ’im.
The old man didn’t take any notice of ’im. He dressed ’imself up very slow and careful in Peter’s clothes, and then ’e drove ’em nearly crazy by wasting time making ’is bed.
“Be as quick as you can, Isaac,” ses Ginger, at last; “think of us two a-sitting ’ere waiting for you.”
“I sha’n’t forget it,” ses Isaac, and ’e came back to the door after ’e’d gone arf-way down the stairs to ask ’em not to go out on the drink while ’e was away.
It was nine o’clock when he went, and at ha’-past nine Ginger began to get impatient and wondered wot ’ad ’appened to ’im, and when ten o’clock came and no Isaac they was both leaning out of the winder with blankets over their shoulders looking up the road. By eleven o’clock Peter was in very low spirits and Ginger was so mad ’e was afraid to speak to ’im.
They spent the rest o’ that day ’anging out of the winder, but it was not till ha’-past four in the afternoon that Isaac, still wearing Peter’s clothes and carrying a couple of large green plants under ’is arm, turned into the road, and from the way ’e was smiling they thought it must be all right.