his little muscles from the first, Ernie, and he'd be able to knock 'em
all out when he grew up. It wouldn't cost much, and I'd work hard and be
careful if you'd help me. And you'd be proud of him, too, Ernie--I know
you would."

Stowsher scraped the doorstep with his foot; but whether he was
"touched", or feared hysterics and was wisely silent, was not apparent.

"Do you remember the first day I met you, Ernie?" she asked, presently.

Stowsher regarded her with an uneasy scowl: "Well--wot o' that?"

"You came into the bar-parlour at the 'Cricketers' Arms' and caught a
push of 'em chyacking your old man."

"Well, I altered that."

"I know you did. You done for three of them, one after another, and two
was bigger than you."

"Yes! and when the push come up we done for the rest," said Stowsher,
softening at the recollection.

"And the day you come home and caught the landlord bullying your old
mother like a dog----"

"Yes; I got three months for that job. But it was worth it!" he
reflected. "Only," he added, "the old woman might have had the knocker
to keep away from the lush while I was in quod.... But wot's all this
got to do with it?"

"HE might barrack and fight for you, some day, Ernie," she said softly,
"when you're old and out of form and ain't got no push to back you."

The thing was becoming decidedly embarrassing to Stowsher; not that he
felt any delicacy on the subject, but because he hated to be drawn into
a conversation that might be considered "soft".

"Oh, stow that!" he said, comfortingly. "Git on yer hat, and I'll take
yer for a trot."

She rose quickly, but restrained herself, recollecting that it was not
good policy to betray eagerness in response to an invitation from Ernie.

"But--you know--I don't like to go out like this. You can't--you
wouldn't like to take me out the way I am, Ernie!"

"Why not? Wot rot!"

"The fellows would see me, and--and----"

"And... wot?"

"They might notice----"

"Well, wot o' that? I want 'em to. Are yer comin' or are yer ain't?
Fling round now. I can't hang on here all day."

They walked towards Flagstaff Hill.

One or two, slouching round a pub. corner, saluted with "Wotcher,
Stowsher!"

"Not too stinkin'," replied Stowsher. "Soak yer heads."

"Stowsher's goin' to stick," said one privately.

"An' so he orter," said another. "Wish I had the chanst."

The two turned up a steep lane.

"Don't walk so fast up hill, Ernie; I can't, you know.