'Ah,' replied Mr Weech, 'it's fearful the wickedness there is about, ain't it? It's enough to break yer 'art. Sich a neighb'r'ood, too! Wy, if it was known as I'd give you this 'ere little friendly information, bein' in business meself an' knowin' wot it is, my life wouldn't be safe a hower. It wouldn't, Mr Grinder.' 'Wouldn't it?' said Mr Grinder. 'You mean them in the Jago, I s'pose.' 'Yus. They're a awful lot, Mr Grinder--you've no idear. The father o' this 'ere boy as I've warned you aginst, 'e's in with a desprit gang, an' they'd murder me if they thought I'd come an' told you honest, w'en you might 'a' bin robbed, as is my nature to. They would indeed. So o' course you won't say wot I toldjer, nor 'oo give you this 'ere honourable friendly warnin'--not to nobody.' 'That's awright,' answered the simple Grinder, 'I won't let on. But out 'e goes, promp'. I'm obliged to ye, Mr Weech. Er--r wot'll ye take?' Weech put away the suggestion with a virtuous palm:--'Nothink at all, Mr Grinder, thanks all the same. I never touch nothink; an' I'm glad to--to do any moral job, so to speak, as comes in my way. 'Scatter seeds o' kindness' you know, as the--the Psalm says, Mr Grinder. Your boy ain't back, is 'e?' And after peering cautiously, Mr Weech went his way. XX Dicky completed his round, and pushed his unladen trolley Grinder-ward with a fuller sense of responsibility than ever. For he carried money. A publican had paid him four and threepence, and he had taken two and tenpence elsewhere. He had left his proud signature, pencilled large and black, on two receipts, and he stopped in a dozen doorways to count the money over again, and make sure that all was right. Between the halts he added four and three to two and ten mentally, and proved his sum correct by subtracting each in turn from seven and a penny. And at last he stood his trolley on end by the bank of saucepans, and entered the shop. 'Walker's is paid, an' Wilkins is paid,' said Dicky, putting down the money. 'Two an' ten an' four an' three's seven an' a penny.' Mr Grinder looked steadily and sourly at Dicky, and counted. He pitched the odd penny into the till and shook the rest of the coins in his closed hand, still staring moodily in the boy's face. 'It's three an' six a week you come 'ere at,' he said. 'Yus sir,' Dicky replied, since Grinder seemed to expect an answer. The supreme moment when he should take his first wages had been the week's beacon to him, reddening and brightening as Saturday night grew nearer. 'Three an' six a week an' yer tea.' Dicky wondered. 'So as if I found out anythink about--say Brass Roastin'-jacks for instance--I could give ye yer three an' six an' start y' auf, unless I did somethin' wuss.' Dicky was all incomprehension; but something made him feel a little sick.