“Temp’ry lodgin’s. Needn’t be fur; next parish is as good as fifty mile auf, in London. Better. An’ by George! now I think of it, I see the very place when I was goin’ round. Party o’ the name o’ Bushell, in Poplar. ’Ouse too big for ’em—got a furnished bedroom to let; showed it me, case I might know anyone an’ send ’em, them ’avin’ done me a turn sendin’ me to Old Ford. What’s more, there’ll be two more rooms, unfurnished, next week, tenant goin’ out—young gal, a dressmaker. So we can take them too, if we get pushed, an’ run the sticks in there. There’s luck to begin with! Why, things’ll go like clockwork!” Hicks rushed off to make sure of the lodging, and in half an hour was back with a four-wheeled cab. “Get ’em down an’ pop ’em in sharp,” said Hicks. “I’ve told the cabby where to go. You go with ’em an’ make ’em comfortable, an’ I’ll wait ’ere till you come back. Mind—people at the ’ouse on’y know she’s in trouble ’cos ’er ’usband’s run away, an’ I paid a week in advance. Go on—I’ll keep out o’ the way in the back till they’re clear auf; they don’t want to see me.” * * * * * Nan and Bessy wore veils, and hurried into the cab, while Johnny glowered fiercely at every face he could see turned toward them. To Johnny the streets seemed unreasonably familiar as the cab jolted through them—unreasonably like what they were a day ago, before this blow fell and knocked the world out of shape. They went out through Blackwall Cross, by the High Street, and past the Institute, where the familiar housekeeper—the housekeeper who had given him Nora’s farewell letter—stood on the steps with a broom; through the two streets, and past that corner where they had parted—it seemed years ago. As to when they might meet again, and how—that was not to be thought of now. His head was too full already. XXXIV. “_Oh_, _give us some time to blow the man down_!” roared Mr. Bushell, splashing and puffing amid much yellow soap and cold water in the wash-house, whither he had gone for a wash, on coming home from his tug. The voice thundered and rolled through the house, and on the first floor, strangers not used to it grew muddled in their conversation. “Blow the man down, bully, blow the man down— To my Aye! Aye! Blow the man down! Singapore Harbour to gay London town— Oh, give us some time to blow the man down!”