So I did; but nobody held up his finger—at least, as far as I could make out; and Mouldy was not a bit luckier. In about twenty minutes we made our way towards Bow Street, to a coffee-stall which stood at market end of it; and, after a few minutes’ waiting, Ripston made his appearance.
“What luck, Rip?” asked Mouldy.
“Threeha’pence. How have you been doin’?”
Mouldy replied by shrugging his shoulders dismally.
“And Smiffield the same?”
“Jes the same.”
“Come on, then. Shall we have our coffee now, or wait till we takes a brown or two, and have somethin’ to eat with it?”
“Have it now, I say,” replied Mouldy, “I feel reg’ler perished for wants of it. What do you say, Smiffield?”
I was quite inclined to agree with Mouldy’s proposition. What with going so short of victuals, and getting up so early in the morning, I began to experience a strange sort of sensation, which I suppose was of the same sort with Mouldy’s. I think I never felt so starved and chilly before. So we went to the coffee-stall, and Ripston ordered three ha’p’orths of coffee, which we had in three separate cups, and which was deliciously hot and sweet, though not over strong. When we had drank it, feeling very much refreshed, we turned to again to look for a job.
But our luck didn’t seem to better. Hour after hour we tried, but nothing turned up. We scoured the vegetable market through and through and worked in and out of the fruit market in every direction. I should have been ashamed, only that Mouldy did not get on any better than I did; neither did Ripston, except for that first threehalfpence. Another thing that kept me from taking my failure so very much to heart was, that both my companions appeared to be by no means low-spirited; they went cheerily about, cracking their jokes and larking amongst the stalls, as though their bread was already buttered, and only awaited their eating when they were tired of strolling about. About ten o’clock in the morning we quitted the market, and made our way through several back streets and alleys to Drury Lane.
“Well, Smiffield,” said Mouldy, “how do you like bein’ a pardener? Do you think you shall like to keep on with it?”
“I shall like to keep on with it if we have a little better luck,” I replied; “we haven’t done much this morning, Mouldy.”
“We might ha’ done wuss,” observed Ripston, “considerin’ how jolly late it was afore we begun.”
“I believe yer,” said Mouldy. “I haven’t done so bad; you ought to have done werry well, too, Smiffield”
This I naturally took to be a little joke of Mouldy’s, so I laughed as I answered him—
“Oh, yes, I’ve done splendid; just about as well as you have, Mouldy.”
At this my partners winked and laughed too, and we trotted up Drury Lane, merry as crickets. Presently we came to the entrance to a dingy alley somewhere near Little Wild Street, and there we stopped.
“Come on,” whispered Mouldy, first looking up and down to see that we were not observed; “tip up, Smiffield.”
“Tip up!” I repeated, in amazement, seeing that he as well as Ripston were looking perfectly serious.
“Fork out,” said the boy last mentioned, nudging me impatiently; “not all at once; just a few at a time. Here you are; I’ll stand before yer.”
“I ’spect it’s chiefly in new taters,” observed Mouldy; “I twigg’d you rubbin’ puty close to the sieves—closer than I’d ha’ liked to rub. Come on, out with ’em; they’re scarce as yet, and will fetch somethink, though nuts pays better, when you come acrost ’em.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I answered. “I haven’t got no new taters.” “Well, let us have it, whatever it is,” said Ripston; “the old man wot we deals with lives up here.”
I couldn’t in the least make out what my partners meant; especially as they pointed to the pockets of my jacket and trousers as they spoke; and presently Mouldy commenced to stroke me down on every side. The result didn’t appear to afford him a great amount of satisfaction, judging from the increasing anger of his countenance, and the air of disgust with which he turned to Ripston.
“Ho! ho!” he laughed savagely; “here’s a pardener! here’s a stunnin’ pardener for yer!”
“Wot’s the matter with him?” asked Ripston, evidently suspecting what was the true state of the case, but loath to give credit to so preposterous a thing.
“The matter? Why, he hain’t got a blessed thing! Not so much even as a goosgog I That’s what’s the matter.”
And for several seconds both my partners stood regarding me in reproachful silence.
“And you calls that stickin’ to us!—doin’ as we do!” remarked Ripston; “well, you are a sort.”
“Well, so I did stick to you,” I replied; “I’m sure I looked out all I could. If nobody wanted nothink carryin’, how could I help it?”
“Yah!” sneered Mouldy, with the utterest contempt.
“I didn’t have any money to buy goosgogs,” I continued, in explanation; “nor yet to buy new taters, nor anythink. You know’d that I didn’t have any money, didn’t you?”
“We didn’t know you was a jolly fool.”
“Besides, if I had got a penny, I shouldn’t have bought some goosgogs with it, I can tell you,” said I; “I should have bought some bread at breakfus’ time.”
I never in my life saw a more ferocious face than that of Mouldy’s as, on hearing my explanation, he turned towards me. His wrath was altogether too great for speech; so after glaring at me for a moment, he growled deeply, and turning away, looked up the street.
Ripston laughed.
“Don’t get out of temper, Mouldy,” said he; “Smiffield’s green, that’s wot it is. See here, Smiffield.”
So saying, he took from his jacket pocket, one after the other, seven lovely apples; and then he invited me to peep into his trousers’ pockets. I did so. One of them was full of almond nuts, and the other of Spanish nuts.
“My eyes, Smiffield!” stud Ripston; “wot a lot of money they must have cost me, mustn’t they?”
“But why did you buy nuts and apples?” I asked, in bewilderment.
“Well, I bought ’em to sell agin’ don’t yer see,” replied Ripston, his whole face, excepting his eyes, perfectly serious; “I deals in ’em.” “When did you buy ’em? I didn’t see you.” “Nor did the cove as belonged to ’em. He was servin’ somebody else at the time, and I thought he wouldn’t like to be disturbed; so I served myself, and didn’t wait to have ’em put in a bag. Now, do you twig?”
I began to fear that I did I say, fear; for though I had known Mrs. Burke to be guilty of shameless swindling as regards my father’s money, I don’t think she would have given her countenance to downright stealing. Neither would my father; as witness the terrible thrashing he gave me when he was led to believe that I had purloined that half-crown. Still, however, I did not like to confess that I did “twig,” as Ripston put it, for fear I might be mistaken.
“Yah! you might as well tickle a milestone, and ’spect it to larf, as to try and ’int anythink to him,” sneered Mouldy. “Look here, young Smiffield, you see them apples and nuts wot Ripston’s got? Well, he nailed ’em I prigged ’em! stole ’em!—is that plain enough for yer! Look here, again,” (he opened the mouth of a sort of roundabout pocket in his jacket,) “here’s some wot I nailed, and I’m jolly sorry that I didn’t find the chance to nail some more. Now we’re going up this alley to sell our stock, and to buy some wittles with the money.”