vin' there for next to nothing. I got sick of my
step-father waitin' outside for me on pay-day, with a dirty, drunken,
spieler pal of his waitin' round the corner for him. There wasn't
nothin' in it. It got to be too rough altogether.... Blast Grinders!"

"And what are you doing now?"

"Sellin' papers. I'm always tryin' to get a start in somethin' else, but
I ain't got no luck. I always come back to, sellin' papers."

Then, after a thought, he added reflectively: "Blast papers!"

His present ambition was to drive a cart.

"I drove a cart twice, and once I rode a butcher's horse. A bloke worked
me out of one billet, and I worked myself out of the other. I didn't
know when I was well off. Then the banks went bust, and my last boss
went insolvent, and one of his partners went into Darlinghurst for
suicide, and the other went into Gladesville for being mad; and one
day the bailiff seized the cart and horse with me in it and a load of
timber. So I went home and helped mother and the kids to live on one
meal a day for six months, and keep the bum-bailiff out. Another cove
had my news-stand."

Then, after a thought "Blast reconstriction!"

"But you surely can't make a living selling newspapers?"

"No, there's nothin' in it. There's too many at it. The blessed women
spoil it. There's one got a good stand down in George Street, and she's
got a dozen kids sellin'--they can't be all hers-and then she's got
the hide to come up to my stand and sell in front of me.... What are you
thinkin' about doin', Mrs Aspinall?"

"I don't know," she wailed. "I really don't know what to do."

And there still being some distance to go, she plunged into her tale of
misery once more, not forgetting the length of time she had dealt with
her creditors.

Bill pushed his hat forward and walked along on the edge of the kerb.

"Can't you shift? Ain't you got no people or friends that you can go to
for a while?"

"Oh, yes; there's my sister-in-law; she's asked me times without number
to come and stay with her till things got better, and she's got a hard
enough struggle herself, Lord knows. She asked me again only yesterday."

"Well, that ain't too bad," reflected Bill. "Why don't you go?"

"Well, you see, if I did they wouldn't let me take my furniture, and
she's got next to none."

"Won't the landlord let you take your furniture?"

"No, not him! He's one of the hardest landlords in Sydney--the worst I
ever had."

"That's red-hot!...