nd, however, he turned sleepy, and, throwing 'imself down on the
bed which was meant for the two of 'em, fell into a peaceful sleep.

Sam and Ginger Dick came in a little while arterward, both badly marked
where Bill 'ad hit them, and sat talking to Peter in whispers as to wot
was to be done. Ginger, who 'ad plenty of pluck, was for them all to set
on to 'im, but Sam wouldn't 'ear of it, and as for Peter he was so sore
he could 'ardly move.

They all turned in to the other bed at last, 'arf afraid to move for fear
of disturbing Bill, and when they woke up in the morning and see 'im
sitting up in 'is bed they lay as still as mice.

"Why, Ginger, old chap," ses Bill, with a 'earty smile, "wot are you all
three in one bed for?" "We was a bit cold," ses Ginger.

"Cold?" ses Bill. "Wot, this weather? We 'ad a bit of a spree last
night, old man, didn't we? My throat's as dry as a cinder."

"It ain't my idea of a spree," ses Ginger, sitting up and looking at 'im.

"Good 'eavens, Ginger!" ses Bill, starting back, "wotever 'ave you been
a-doing to your face? Have you been tumbling off of a 'bus?"

Ginger couldn't answer; and Sam Small and Peter sat up in bed alongside
of 'im, and Bill, getting as far back on 'is bed as he could, sat staring
at their pore faces as if 'e was having a 'orrible dream.

"And there's Sam," he ses. "Where ever did you get that mouth, Sam?"

"Same place as Ginger got 'is eye and pore Peter got 'is face," ses Sam,
grinding his teeth.

"You don't mean to tell me," ses Bill, in a sad voice--"you don't mean to
tell me that I did it?"

"You know well enough," ses Ginger.

Bill looked at 'em, and 'is face got as long as a yard measure.

"I'd 'oped I'd growed out of it, mates," he ses, at last, "but drink
always takes me like that. I can't keep a pal."

"You surprise me," ses Ginger, sarcastic-like. "Don't talk like that,
Ginger," ses Bill, 'arf crying.

"It ain't my fault; it's my weakness. Wot did I do it for?"

"I don't know," ses Ginger, "but you won't get the chance of doing it
agin, I'll tell you that much."

"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