“I daresay I shall be better to-night, Ginger,” ses Bill, very humble; “it don’t always take me that way. “Well, we don’t want you with us any more,” ses old Sam, ’olding his ’ead very high. “You’ll ’ave to go and get your beer by yourself, Bill,” ses Peter Russet, feeling ’is bruises with the tips of ’is fingers. “But then I should be worse,” ses Bill. “I want cheerful company when I’m like that. I should very likely come ’ome and ’arf kill you all in your beds. You don’t ’arf know what I’m like. Last night was nothing, else I should ’ave remembered it.” “Cheerful company?” ses old Sam. “’Ow do you think company’s going to be cheerful when you’re carrying on like that, Bill? Why don’t you go away and leave us alone?” “Because I’ve got a ’art,” ses Bill. “I can’t chuck up pals in that free-and-easy way. Once I take a liking to anybody I’d do anything for ’em, and I’ve never met three chaps I like better than wot I do you. Three nicer, straight-forrad, free-’anded mates I’ve never met afore.” “Why not take the pledge agin, Bill?” ses Peter Russet. “No, mate,” ses Bill, with a kind smile; “it’s just a weakness, and I must try and grow out of it. I’ll tie a bit o’ string round my little finger to-night as a reminder.” He got out of bed and began to wash ’is face, and Ginger Dick, who was doing a bit o’ thinking, gave a whisper to Sam and Peter Russet. “All right, Bill, old man,” he ses, getting out of bed and beginning to put his clothes on; “but first of all we’ll try and find out ’ow the landlord is.” “Landlord?” ses Bill, puffing and blowing in the basin. “Wot landlord?” “Why, the one you bashed,” ses Ginger, with a wink at the other two. “He ’adn’t got ’is senses back when me and Sam came away.” Bill gave a groan and sat on the bed while ’e dried himself, and Ginger told ’im ’ow he ’ad bent a quart pot on the landlord’s ’ead, and ’ow the landlord ’ad been carried upstairs and the doctor sent for. He began to tremble all over, and when Ginger said he’d go out and see ’ow the land lay ’e could ’ardly thank ’im enough. He stayed in the bedroom all day, with the blinds down, and wouldn’t eat anything, and when Ginger looked in about eight o’clock to find out whether he ’ad gone, he found ’im sitting on the bed clean shaved, and ’is face cut about all over where the razor ’ad slipped. Ginger was gone about two hours, and when ’e came back he looked so solemn that old Sam asked ’im whether he ’ad seen a ghost. Ginger didn’t answer ’im; he set down on the side o’ the bed and sat thinking. “I s’pose—I s’pose it’s nice and fresh in the streets this morning?” ses Bill, at last, in a trembling voice. Ginger started and looked at ’im. “I didn’t notice, mate,” he ses. Then ’e got up and patted Bill on the back, very gentle, and sat down again. [Illustration] “Anything wrong, Ginger?” asks Peter Russet, staring at ’im.