“What’s up, kiddy?” inquired the cook, whose curiosity became unbearable.
“Wot d’you mean?” demanded Henry with dignity.
“Washin’, and all that,” said the cook, who was a plain creature.
“Don’t you ever wash yourself, you dirty pig?” said Henry elegantly. “I s’pose you think doin’ the cookin’ keeps you clean, though.”
The cook wrung his hands, and, unconscious of plagiarism, told Sam he’d be ’ung for ’im.
“Me and the mate are goin’ for a little stroll, Sam,” observed the youth as he struggled into his jersey. “Keep your eyes open, and don’t get into mischief. You can give Slushy a ’and with the sorsepans if you’ve got nothin’ better to do. Don’t stand about idle.”
The appearance of the mate impeded Sam’s utterance, and he stood silently by the others, watching the couple as they clambered ashore. It was noticed that Henry carried his head very erect, but whether this was due to the company he was keeping or the spick-and-span appearance he made, they were unable to determine.
“Easy—go easy,” panted the mate, mopping his red face with a handkerchief. “What are you in such a hurry for?”
“We shall be too late if we don’t hurry,” said Henry; “then you’ll think I’ve been tellin’ lies.”
The mate made no further protest, and at the same rapid pace they walked on until they reached a quiet road on the outskirts of Gravesend.