to the awkwardness of the situation, Mr. Merrywhistle made a desperate plunge.
'When I was on the Royal Exchange to-day-' he commenced.
The old man took his pipe out of his mouth, and expelled a cloud and a chuckle at the same moment.
'I thought you was a-comin' to that,' he said. 'You owe me a bob.'
'What for?'
'I made a bet with you-to myself-that the first thing you'd speak about was the Royal Exchange. I bet you a bob-to myself-and I won it.'
Without hesitation Mr. Merrywhistle took a shilling from his pocket, and offered it to the old man, who eyed it with his fierce eye for a moment, doubtingly and with curiosity, and then calmly took possession of it, and put it in his waistcoat-pocket.
'When you was, on the Royal Exchange to-day,' he said, repeating Mr. Merrywhistle's words, 'you sor a boy and a girl a-beggin'.'
'No,' exclaimed Mr. Merrywhistle warmly; 'they were not begging.'
'You may call it what you like,' said the old man; 'but I call it beggin'; and so would that identical boy, if I was to ask him. He wouldn't tell you so, though. The boy he looked as if he was goin' to die, and you give him a copper or a bit of silver; and you wasn't pleased because I laughed at you for it. Now, then, fire away.'
'Was that boy starving? Was he as ill as he looked? Was I-'
'Took in?' added the old man, as Mr. Merrywhistle hesitated to express the doubt 'Why? D'ye want your money back? Lord! he's a smart little chap, is Tom Beadle!'
'You know him, then?'
'Know him!' replied the old man, with a contemptuous snort; 'I'd like to be told who it is about 'ere I don't know. And I'd like to know who you are. I'm almost as fond of askin' questions as I am of answering 'em. What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. If you expect Jimmy Wirtue to answer your questions, you must make up your mind to answer his'n.'
'You're Mr. Virtue, then?'
'You're at it agin. No, I'm not Mr. Virtue' (he had to struggle with the 'V' before it would pass his lips), 'but Jimmy Wirtue-and that's not Jimmy Wice. What's your'n?'
'Merrywhistle,' replied that gentleman shortly.
Jimmy Virtue was pleased at the quick answer.
'Merrywhistle!' he exclaimed. 'That's a rum name-rummer than mine. What more would you like to know? What am I? I keep a leavin'-shop. Where do I live? In Stoney-alley. Now, what are you; and where do you live? Are you a Methody parson, or a penny-a-liner, or a detective, or a cove that goes about studyin' human nater, or a feelanthrofist. We've lots o' them knockin' about 'ere.'
Mr. Merrywhistle was constrained to reply, but found himself unexpectedly in a quandary.
'I'm a-a-O, I'm Nothing Particular,' blurting it out almost in desperation.
'You look like it,' chuckled Jimmy Virtue, so tickled by his smart retort as to be satisfied with Mr. Merrywhistle's vague definition of his calling. 'We've lots of your sort, too, knockin' about here-more than the feelanthrofists, I shouldn't wonder. But I don't think there's any 'arm in you. Jimmy Wirtue's not a bad judge of a face; and he can tell you every one of your organs. 'Ere's Benevolence-you've got that large; 'ere's Ideality-not much o' that; 'ere's Language-shut your eyes; 'ere's Causality-no, it ain't; you 'aven't got it. I can't see your back bumps, nor the bumps atop o' your 'ead; but I could ferret out every one of 'em, if I 'ad my fingers there.'
At this moment an individual approached them who would have attracted the attention of the most unobservant. Mr. Merrywhistle did not see his face; but the gait of the man was so singular, that his eyes wandered immediately in the direction of the man. At every three steps the singular figure paused, and puffed, as if he were a steam-engine, and was blowing off steam. One-two-three; puff. One-two-three; puff. One-two-three; puff.
'What on earth is the matter with the man?' exclaimed Mr. Merrywhistle to Jimmy Virtue.
'Nothing that I knows of,' replied Jimmy Virtue; 'he's been goin' on that way for the last twenty year. If you're lookin' out for characters, you'll get plenty of 'em 'ere. Perhaps you're a artist for one of the rubbishy picter-papers-one of the fellers who sees a murder done in a Whitechapel court one day, and takes a picter of it on the spot from nater; and who sees a shipwreck in the Atlantic the next day, and takes a picter of that on the spot from nater. That there man's worth his ten 'undred golden sovereigns a-year, if he's worth a penny; and he lives on tuppence a-day. The girls and boys about here calls him Three-Steps-and-a-Puff. If you was to go and offer him a ha'penny, he'd take it.'
By the time that Three-Steps-and-a-Puff was out of sight, the tobacco in Jimmy Virtue's pipe had turned to dust and smoke, and he prepared to depart also. But seeing that Mr. Merrywhistle was inclined for further conversation, he said:
'Perhaps you'd like to come down and see my place?'
Mr. Merrywhistle said that he would very much like to come down and see Jimmy Virtue's place.
'Come along, then,' said Jimmy Virtue, but paused, and said, 'Stop a bit; perhaps you wouldn't mind buyin' a penn'orth o' baked taters first.'
A baked-potato can, with a man attached to it, being near them, Mr. Merrywhistle invested a penny, thinking that Jimmy Virtue intended the potatoes for supper.
'Did you ever consider,' said the eccentric old man, as they turned down the narrowest of lanes, 'that a big city was like a theaytre?'
'No, it never struck me.'
'It is, though I there's stalls, and dress-circle, and pit, and gallery, in a big city like London. The west, that's the stalls and private boxes; the north, that's the dress-circle; the south, that's the pit; the east, that's the gallery. This is the penny-gallery of the theaytre; 'taint a nice place to lay in.'
He stopped before the forms of two children-a boy and a girl-who, huddled in each other's arms, were fast asleep in a gateway. He stirred them gently with his foot; and the boy started to his feet instantaneously, wide awake, and on the alert for his natural enemies, the police. Mr. Merrywhistle was standing in the abutment of the gateway, and the boy couldn't see his face; but the well-known form of Jimmy Virtue was instantly recognised; and as the boy sank to the ground, he muttered:
'What's the good of waking us up just as we was a-gettin' warm? You wouldn't like it yourself, Mr. Wirtue, you wouldn't.'
Then he crept closer to his companion, and said sleepily:
'Come along, Bladergrass; let's turn in agin.'
The girl, who had been regarding the two dark shadows with a half-frightened, half-imploring look, as if she dreaded that they were about to turn her out of her miserable shelter, nestled in the lad's arms, and the next minute they were asleep again. All blessings were not denied to them.
'I know that lad,' said Mr. Merrywhistle.
'You ought to; it's Tom Beadle.'
'And he was at the Royal Exchange to-day with that poor little girl?'
'Yes, that was him. You thought he was dyin'. What do you think now?
Jimmy Virtue seemed to take positive pleasure in putting the affair in the worst light.
Mr. Merrywhistle did not answer the question, but said, in a sad tone, 'He begged of me again to-night.'
'Did he, though!' exclaimed Jimmy Virtue admiringly.
'And when I asked him if any one had given him a-a shilling on the Royal Exchange to-day, he took an oath that he hadn't been near the Royal Exchange for a month, and that he had never had a shilling given to him in all his life.'
'And did you believe him, and give him anythin'?'
'Yes' (hesitatingly), 'I gave him a trifle.'
Jimmy Virtue stopped by a post, and held his sides. When he had had his laugh out, he said:
'Tom's a smart little thief. But you're not the first gent he's taken in twice in one day. Come, now, he's taken you in twice with your eyes shut; let him take you in once more