Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 5, 2025
Trained from childhood in the great school of poverty, they are full of the pathos and humour of it. "Don't you remember me?" "No; can't say I do. I fancy I've seen your face before somewhere." "I was at your place when little Arvie died. I used to work with him at Grinder Brothers', you know." "Oh, of course I remember you! What was I thinking about?
No answer. "Carn't yer answer a civil question? I'd soon knock the sulks out of yer if I was yer father." "My name's Arvie; you know that." "Arvie what?" "Arvie Aspinall." Bill cocked his eye at the roof and thought a while and whistled; then he said suddenly: "Say, Balmy, where d'yer live?" "Jones' Alley." "What?" "Jones' Alley." A short, low whistle from Bill. "What house?" "Number Eight."
But now a new light seemed to dawn upon him. He studied the sentence awhile, and then read it aloud for the second time. He turned it over in his mind again in silence. "Mother!" he said suddenly, "I think it lies." She placed the clock on the shelf, tucked him into his little bed on the sofa, and blew out the light. Arvie seemed to sleep, but she lay awake thinking of her troubles.
He got the tobacco, and the others got what they called "the fun of seein' Bill drink oil!" The second bell rang, and Bill went up to the other end of the shop, where Arvie was already at work sweeping shavings from under a bench. The young terror seated himself on the end of this bench, drummed his heels against the leg, and whistled. He was in no hurry, for his foreman had not yet arrived.
He looked at the coffin with the critical eye of a tradesman, then he looked at Arvie, and then at the coffin again, as if calculating whether the body would fit. The mother uncovered the white, pinched face of the dead boy, and Bill came and stood by the sofa. He carelessly drew his right hand from his pocket, and laid the palm on Arvie's ice-cold forehead. "Poor little cove!"
When Arvie came out it was beginning to rain and the hands had all gone except Bill, who stood with his back to a verandah-post, spitting with very fair success at the ragged toe of one boot.
"Here comes Balmy Arvie," exclaimed Bill as a pale, timid-looking little fellow rounded the corner and stood against the wall by the door. "How's your parents, Balmy?" The boy made no answer; he shrank closer to the entrance. The first bell went. "What yer got for dinner, Balmy?
"You let me alone," said Arvie. "Why, what'll you do?" exclaimed Bill, bringing his eye down with feigned surprise. Then, in an indignant tone, "I don't mind takin' a fall out of yer, now, if yer like." Arvie went on with his work. Bill tossed all the chips within reach, and then sat carelessly watching some men at work, and whistling the "Dead March". Presently he asked: "What's yer name, Balmy?"
He volunteered no explanations as to how he expected mother to know the time, but, perhaps, like many other mites of his kind, he had unbounded faith in the infinitude of a mother's wisdom. His name was Arvie Aspinall, please sir, and he lived in Jones's Alley. Father was dead.
You'll have the bailiff in any day, and be turned out in the end without a rag. The law knows no 'necessary. You want your furniture more'n the landlord does. He can't do nothin'. You can trust it all to me.... I knowed Arvie.... Will you do it?" "Yes, I will." At about eight o'clock that evening there came a mysterious knock at Mrs Aspinall's door. She opened, and there stood Bill.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking