Sailor's Knots (Entire Collection)

“It was your example wot put it into his ‘ead fust, I b’leeve,” ses Sam, looking at Peter for ‘im to notice ‘ow clever he was.

“And then, Sam and Ginger Dick being teetotallers too,” ses Peter, “we all, natural-like, keep together.”

Mr. Goodman said they was wise men, and, arter a little more talk, he said ‘ow would it be if they went out and saw a little bit of the great wicked city? They all said they would, and Ginger got quite excited about it until he found that it meant London.

They got on a bus at Aldgate, and fust of all they went to the British Museum, and when Mr. Goodman was tired o’ that—and long arter the others was—they went into a place and ‘ad a nice strong cup of tea and a piece o’ cake each. When they come out o’ there they all walked about looking at the shops until they was tired out, and arter wot Mr. Goodman said was a very improving evening they all went ‘ome.

Sam and Ginger went ‘ome just for the look ‘o the thing, and arter waiting a few minutes in their room they crept downstairs agin to spend wot was left of the evening. They went down as quiet as mice, but, for all that, just as they was passing Mr. Goodman’s room the door opened, and Peter, in a polite voice, asked ‘em to step inside.

“We was just thinking you’d be dull up there all alone,” he ses.

Sam lost ‘is presence o’ mind, and afore he knew wot ‘e was doing ‘im and Ginger ‘ad walked in and sat down. They sat there for over an hour and a ‘arf talking, and then Sam, with a look at Ginger, said they must be going, because he ‘ad got to call for a pair o’ boots he ‘ad left to be mended.

“Why, Sam, wot are you thinking of?” ses Peter, who didn’t want anybody to ‘ave wot he couldn’t. “Why, the shop’s shut.”

“I don’t think so,” ses Sam, glaring at ‘im. “Anyway, we can go and see.”

Peter said he’d go with ‘im, and just as they got to the door Mr. Goodman said he’d go too. O’ course, the shops was shut, and arter Mr. Goodman ‘ad stood on Tower Hill admiring the Tower by moonlight till Sam felt ready to drop, they all walked back. Three times Sam’s boot-lace come undone, but as the ethers all stopped too to see ‘im do it up it didn’t do ‘im much good. Wot with temper and dryness ‘e could ‘ardly bid Peter “Good-night.”

Sam and Ginger ‘ad something the next morning, but morning ain’t the time for it; and arter they had ‘ad dinner Mr. Goodman asked ‘em to go to the Zoological Gardens with ‘im. He paid for them all, and he ‘ad a lot to say about kindness to animals and ‘ow you could do anything with ‘em a’most by kindness. He walked about the place talking like a book, and when a fat monkey, wot was pretending to be asleep, got a bit o’ Sam’s whisker, he said it was on’y instink, and the animal had no wish to do ‘im ‘arm.

“Very likely thought it was doing you a kindness, Sam,” ses Ginger.

Mr. Goodman said it was very likely, afore Sam could speak, and arter walking about and looking at the other things they come out and ‘ad a nice, strong, ‘ot cup o’ tea, same as they ‘ad the day before, and then walked about, not knowing what to do with themselves.

Sam got tired of it fust, and catching Ginger’s eye said he thought it was time to get ‘ome in case too much enjoyment wasn’t good for ‘em. His idea was to get off with Ginger and make a night of it, and when ‘e found Peter and his uncle was coming too, he began to think that things was looking serious.

“I don’t want to spile your evening,” he says, very perlite. “I must get ‘ome to mend a pair o’ trowsis o’ mine, but there’s no need for you to come.”

“I’ll come and watch you,” ses Peter’s uncle.

“And then I’m going off to bed early,” ses Sam. “Me, too,” ses Ginger, and Peter said he could hardly keep ‘is eyes open.

They got on a bus, and as Sam was about to foller Ginger and Peter on top, Mr. Goodman took hold of ‘im by the arm and said they’d go inside. He paid two penny fares, and while Sam was wondering ‘ow to tell ‘im that it would be threepence each, the bus stopped to take up a passenger and he got up and moved to the door.

“They’ve gone up there,” he ses, pointing.

Afore Sam could stop ‘im he got off, and Sam, full o’ surprise, got off too, and follered ‘im’ on to the pavement.

“Who’s gone up there?” he ses, as the bus went on agin.

“Peter and Mr. Ginger Dick,” ses Mr. Good-man. “But don’t you trouble. You go ‘ome and mend your trowsis.”

“But they’re on the bus,” ses Sam, staring. “Dick and Peter, I mean.”

Mr. Goodman shook his ‘ead.

“They got off. Didn’t you see ‘em?” he ses. “No,” ses Sam, “I’ll swear they didn’t.”

“Well, it’s my mistake, I s’pose,” ses Peter’s uncle. “But you get off home; I’m not tired yet, and I’ll walk.”

Sam said ‘e wasn’t very tired, and he walked along wondering whether Mr. Goodman was quite right in his ‘ead. For one thing, ‘e seemed upset about something or other, and kept taking little peeps at ‘im in a way he couldn’t understand at all.

“It was nice tea we ‘ad this arternoon,” ses Mr. Goodman at last.

“De-licious,” ses Sam.

“Trust a teetotaller for knowing good tea,” ses Mr. Goodman. “I expect Peter enjoyed it. I s’pose ‘e is a very strict teetotaller?”

“Strict ain’t the word for it,” ses Sam, trying to do ‘is duty by Peter. “We all are.”

“That’s right,” ses Mr. Goodman, and he pushed his ‘at back and looked at Sam very serious. They walked on a bit further, and then Peter’s uncle stopped sudden just as they was passing a large public-’ouse and looked at Sam.

“I don’t want Peter to know, ‘cos it might alarm ‘im,” he ses, “but I’ve come over a bit faint. I’ll go in ‘ere for ‘arf a minnit and sit down. You’d better wait outside.”

“I’ll come in with you, in case you want help,” ses Sam. “I don’t mind wot people think.”

Mr. Goodman tried to persuade ‘im not to, but it was all no good, and at last ‘e walked in and sat down on a tall stool that stood agin the bar, and put his hand to his ‘ead.

“I s’pose we shall ‘ave to ‘ave something,” he ses in a whisper to Sam; “we can’t expect to come in and sit down for nothing. What’ll you take?”

Sam looked at ‘im, but he might just as well ha’ looked at a brass door-knob.

“I—I—I’ll ‘ave a small ginger-beer,” he ses at last, “a very small one.”

“One small ginger,” ses Mr. Goodman to the bar-maid, “and one special Scotch.”

Sam could ‘ardly believe his ears, and he stood there ‘oldin’ his glass o’ ginger-beer and watching Peter’s teetotal uncle drink whiskey, and thought ‘e must be dreaming.

“I dessay it seems very shocking to you,” ses Mr. Goodman, putting down ‘is glass and dryin’ ‘is lips on each other, “but I find it useful for these attacks.”

“I—I s’pose the flavor’s very nasty?” ses Sam, taking a sip at ‘is ginger-beer.

“Not exactly wot you could call nasty,” ses Mr. Goodman, “though I dessay it would seem so to you. I don’t suppose you could swallow it.”

“I don’t s’pose I could,” ses Sam, “but I’ve a good mind to ‘ave a try. If it’s good for one teetotaller I don’t see why it should hurt another.”

Mr. Goodman looked at ‘im very hard, and then he ordered a whiskey and stood watching while Sam, arter pretending for a minnit to look at it as though ‘e didn’t know wot to do with it, took a sip and let it roll round ‘is mouth.

“Well?” ses Mr. Goodman, looking at ‘im anxious-like.

“It ain’t so ‘orrid as I ‘ad fancied,” ses Sam, lap-ping up the rest very gentle.

“‘Ave you ‘ad enough to do you all the good it ought to?”

Mr. Goodman said that it was no good ‘arf doing a thing, and p’r’aps he ‘ad better ‘ave one more; and arter Sam ‘ad paid for the next two they went out arm-in-arm.

“‘Ow cheerful everybody looks!” ses Mr. Good-man, smiling.