“Well, I’ll come down to the station and take a ticket for you,” ses Isaac. Then Peter lost ’is temper altogether, and banged ’is fist on the table and smashed ’arf the crockery. He asked Isaac whether ’e thought ’im and Ginger Dick was a couple o’ children, and ’e said if ’e didn’t give ’em all their money right away ’e’d give ’im in charge to the first policeman they met. “I’m afraid you didn’t intend for to go and see your mother, Peter,” ses the old man. “Look ’ere,” ses Peter, “are you going to give us that money?” “Not if you went down on your bended knees,” ses the old man. “Very good,” says Peter, getting up and walking outside; “then come along o’ me to find a policeman.” “I’m agreeable,” ses Isaac, “but I’ve got the paper you signed.” Peter said ’e didn’t care twopence if ’e’d got fifty papers, and they walked along looking for a policeman, which was a very unusual thing for them to do. “I ’ope for your sakes it won’t be the same policeman that you and Ginger Dick set on in Gun Alley the night afore you shipped on the _Planet_,” ses Isaac, pursing up ’is lips. “’Tain’t likely to be,” ses Peter, beginning to wish ’e ’adn’t been so free with ’is tongue. “Still, if I tell ’im, I dessay he’ll soon find ’im,” ses Isaac; “there’s one coming along now, Peter; shall I stop ’im?” Peter Russet looked at ’im and then he looked at Ginger, and they walked by grinding their teeth. They stuck to Isaac all day, trying to get their money out of ’im, and the names they called ’im was a surprise even to themselves. And at night they turned the room topsy-turvy agin looking for their money and ’ad more unpleasantness when they wanted Isaac to get up and let ’em search the bed. They ’ad breakfast together agin next morning and Ginger tried another tack. He spoke quite nice to Isaac, and ’ad three large cups o’ tea to show ’im ’ow ’e was beginning to like it, and when the old man gave ’em their eighteen-pences ’e smiled and said ’e’d like a few shillings extra that day. “It’ll be all right, Isaac,” he ses. “I wouldn’t ’ave a drink if you asked me to. Don’t seem to care for it now. I was saying so to you on’y last night, wasn’t I, Peter?” “You was,” ses Peter; “so was I.” “Then I’ve done you good, Ginger,” ses Isaac, clapping ’im on the back. “You ’ave,” ses Ginger, speaking between his teeth, “and I thank you for it. I don’t want drink; but I thought o’ going to a music-’all this evening.” “Going to _wot?_” ses old Isaac, drawing ’imself up and looking very shocked. “A music-’all,” ses Ginger, trying to keep ’is temper. “A music-’all,” ses Isaac; “why, it’s worse than a pub, Ginger. I should be a very poor friend o’ yours if I let you go there—I couldn’t think of it.” “Wot’s it got to do with you, you gray-whiskered serpent?” screams Ginger, arf mad with rage. “Why don’t you leave us alone? Why don’t you mind your own business? It’s our money.”