And arter calling for a pint apiece they began to take a little
notice of me.
"Where d'you come from?" ses one of 'em. "'Ome," I ses, very quiet.
"It's a good place--'ome," ses the chap, shaking his 'ead. "Can you sing
"Ome, Sweet 'Ome'? You seem to 'ave got wot I might call a 'singing
face.'"
"Never mind about my face," I ses, very sharp. "You mind wot you're
doing with that beer. You'll 'ave it over in a minute."
The words was 'ardly out of my mouth afore 'e gave a lurch and spilt his
pint all over me. From 'ead to foot I was dripping with beer, and I was
in such a temper I wonder I didn't murder 'im; but afore I could move
they both pulled out their pocket-'ankerchers and started to rub me down.
"That'll do," I ses at last, arter they 'ad walked round me 'arf-a-dozen
times and patted me all over to see if I was dry. "You get off while
you're safe."
"It was my mistake, mate," ses the chap who 'ad spilt the beer.
"You get outside," I ses. "Go on, both of you, afore I put you out."
They gave one look at me, standing there with my fists clenched, and then
they went out like lambs, and I 'eard 'em trot round the corner as though
they was afraid I was following. I felt a little bit damp and chilly,
but beer is like sea-water--you don't catch cold through it--and I sat
down agin to wait for George Tebb.
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