ear you pounding about up there.
Come along down and fetch me a ha'porth o' wood--I can't get the kettle
to boil without a fire, can I?"

When Dickie came down his aunt slightly slapped him, and he took the
halfpenny and limped off obediently.

It was a very long time indeed before he came back. Because before he
got to the shop with no window to it, but only shutters that were put up
at night, where the wood and coal were sold, he saw a Punch and Judy
show. He had never seen one before, and it interested him extremely. He
longed to see it unpack itself and display its wonders, and he followed
it through more streets than he knew; and when he found that it was not
going to unpack at all, but was just going home to its bed in an old
coach-house, he remembered the fire-wood; and the halfpenny clutched
tight and close in his hand seemed to reproach him warmly.

He looked about him, and knew that he did not at all know where he was.
There was a tall, thin, ragged man lounging against a stable door in the
yard where the Punch and Judy show lived. He took his clay pipe out of
his mouth to say--

"What's up, matey? Lost your way?"

Dickie explained.

"It's Lavender Terrace where I live," he ended--"Lavender Terrace,
Rosemary Street, Deptford."

"I'm going that way myself," said the man, getting away from the wall.
"We'll go back by the boat if you like. Ever been on the boat?"

"No," said Dickie.

"Like to?"

"Don't mind if I do," said Dickie.

It was very pleasant with the steamboat going along in such a hurry,
pushing the water out of the way, and puffing and blowing, and something
beating inside it like a giant's heart. The wind blew freshly, and the
ragged man found a sheltered corner behind the funnel. It was so
sheltered, and the wind had been so strong that Dickie felt sleepy. When
he said, "'Ave I bin asleep?" the steamer was stopping at a pier at a
strange place with trees.

"Here we are!" said the man. "'Ave you been asleep? Not 'alf! Stir
yourself, my man; we get off here."

"Is this Deptford?" Dickie asked. And the people shoving and crushing to
get off the steamer laughed when he said it.

"Not exackly," said the man, "but it's all right. This 'ere's where we
get off. You ain't had yer tea yet, my boy."

It was the most glorious tea Dickie had ever imagined. Fried eggs and
bacon--he had one egg and the man had three--bread and butter--and if
the bread was thick, so was the butter--and as many c