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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Garn! What yer giv'nus?" "I'm telling the truth. What's there funny about it? What do I want to tell you a lie for?" "Why, we lived there once, Balmy. Old folks livin'?" "Mother is; father's dead." Bill scratched the back of his head, protruded his under lip, and reflected. "I say, Arvie, what did yer father die of?" "Heart disease. He dropped down dead at his work."
Bread 'n' treacle?" asked the young ruffian; then for the edification of his chums he snatched the boy's dinner bag and emptied its contents on the pavement. The door opened. Arvie gathered up his lunch, took his time-ticket, and hurried in. "Well, Balmy," said one of the smiths as he passed, "what do you think of the boat race?"
Of her husband carried home dead from his work one morning; of her eldest son who only came to loaf on her when he was out of jail; of the second son, who had feathered his nest in another city, and had no use for her any longer; of the next poor delicate little Arvie struggling manfully to help, and wearing his young life out at Grinder Bros when he should be at school; of the five helpless younger children asleep in the next room: of her hard life scrubbing floors from half-past five till eight, and then starting her day's work washing! of having to rear her children in the atmosphere of the slums, because she could not afford to move and pay a higher rent; and of the rent.
The children had taken their seats in the Old Bark School, and the master called out the roll as usual: "Arvie Aspinall."... "'Es, sir." "David Cooper."... "Yes, sir." "John Heegard."... "Yezzer." "Joseph Swallow."... "Yesser." "James Bullock."... "Present." "Frederick Swallow."... "Y'sir." "Daniel Lyons."... "Perresent, sor-r-r."
Fur two pins I'd fetch a push an' smash yer ole shanty about yer ears y'ole cow! I only arsked if Arvie lived here! Holy Mosis! carn't a feller ask a civil queschin?" "What do you want with Arvie? Do you know him?" "My oath! Don't he work at Grinder Brothers?
He looked up, nodded carelessly at Arvie, and then made a dive for a passing lorry, on the end of which he disappeared round the next corner, unsuspected by the driver, who sat in front with his pipe in his mouth and a bag over his shoulders. Arvie started home with his heart and mind pretty full, and a stronger, stranger aversion to ever going back to the shop again.
Bill fidgeted about on the bench, reached round for a chip, but recollected himself. Then he cocked his eye at the roof once more and whistled, twirling a shaving round his fingers the while. At last he tore the shaving in two, jerked it impatiently from him, and said abruptly: "Look here, Arvie! I'm sorry I knocked over yer barrer yesterday." "Thank you." This knocked Bill out the first round.
I only come out of my way to do him a good turn; an' now I'm sorry I come damned if I ain't to be barracked like this, an' shoved down my own throat. I wouldn't like to see a cove collar a cove's job an' not tell a bloke about it. What's up with Arvie, anyhow? Is he sick?" "Arvie is dead!" "Christ! What-yer-giv'n-us? Tell Arvie Bill Anderson wants-ter see him."
Then he swung himself round the corner of a carriage "body" and was gone. Arvie was late out of the shop that evening. His boss was a sub-contractor for the coach-painting, and always tried to find twenty minutes' work for his boys just about five or ten minutes before the bell rang.
She turned a white, frightened face towards the sofa where he lay the light from the alley's solitary lamp on the pavement above shone down through the window, and she saw that he had not moved. Why didn't the clock wake him? He was such a light sleeper! "Arvie!" she called; no answer. "Arvie!" she called again, with a strange ring of remonstrance mingling with the terror in her voice.
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