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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.
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."
He wanted to join in but, naturally, was forbidden to do so. Aspinall then led his little party back and climbed the cliff. When he got to the top and looked round he found this severely wounded man had not only disobeyed orders and followed him, but had found strength to lug up a box of ammunition with him.
I could hardly believe my own eyes, but it was a deliberate trip, if ever there was one! Aspinall tried to recover himself, failed, and came with a sickening crash against the goal-post. I blew the whistle and rushed to Aspinall; his cheek was bleeding villainously and he was deadly pale. I helped him up, and he said with his usual smile who could mistake it for a sneer? "Thanks, old man.
I know Bourne saw the difficulties himself, and he left my study soon after with a rather anxious look on his face. Personally I determined not to think about the matter until I had seen Aspinall. From the very first I had never expected any help from Acton.
"It can't be helped; we must put on front an' go on with it now," said Bill. "He's all right, I think," said Chinny. "He knows me." "He can't do nothin'," said Bill; "don't mind him, Mrs Aspinall. Don't be frightened of the dorg-what are you frightened of? Why! he'd only apologize if you trod on his tail." The dog went under the cart, and kept his tail carefully behind him.
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."
Aspinall, of Liverpool, read resolutions which the Liverpool magistrates had passed, to the effect that it was desirable that cumulative principles should be applied to the punishment of all crimes and offences, and that the magistrates should be empowered to transfer well conducting and deserving prisoners to homes for the remainder of their sentences.
Meanwhile Acton and Aspinall were having their occasional tussles, though somewhat less often than before, and three or four times the school back was overturned pretty heartily in the encounters. Though there was not a suspicion of unfairness or temper on Aspinall's part, I fancied that Acton was getting rather nettled at his frequent upsets.
I looked at the bandages across his cheek, and I didn't think it small. "But, Aspinall, even if we leave you out of the business, it isn't a small matter for us, especially for Bourne." "Well, no; hardly for you," he admitted. "'Twas a piece of sheer bad form. It shouldn't be done at our place at all." "If you were in Bourne's place would you bar him his place in the eleven?"
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