Ninepence!

I had gone in to get a glass of ale--into the four-ale bar. The place was pretty full. Scarcely had I begun to absorb my liquid when a gentleman of the nondescript sort, having a remnant of a red handkerchief tied about his neck, favoured me with this inquiry:

“If a party what you knew nothink at all about, and never seed afore in all your dyes, was to ask you to lend ‘im ninepence, would you lend it ‘im?”

As I thought it possible that the party in question might be himself, I lost no time whatever in replying, “Certainly not.”

He turned to a friend with sandy hair and a suit of clothes which, unless he had decreased to half his size since first he had them, must originally have been somebody else’s.

“That is what I says. Isn’t that what I says? I says I wouldn’t. No more I wouldn’t.”

The friend tilted his cap over his eyes, and he dug the knuckles of his right hand into the back of his head. I have not the faintest notion why. And he held forth thus:

“It was like this here. I was in the bar, yer know, along with some other parties, yer know, as it might be me and you in ‘ere, when ‘e comes in.”

“Who come in?”

“Why this ‘ere bloke. He says to me, ‘If this ain’t a pretty start, what is?’ I says, ‘What’s up now?’ He says, ‘Just cast your eyes round me.’ And he lifts up the tails of ‘is coat--’e ‘ad a tail-coat on, leastways it ‘ad been a tail-coat once--and ‘e says, ‘Them’s trousers.’ I says, ‘They don’t look it.’ ‘E says, ‘They don’t. And that’s ‘ow I’ll lose a fortune.’ I says, ‘‘Ow do you make that out?’ ‘E says, ‘I’ll tell yer, seeing as ‘ow you’re a friend.’”

“Was ‘e a friend of yourn? I thought yer said yer’d never seed ‘im afore?”

“More I ‘adn’t. ‘E draws the back of ‘is ‘and acrost ‘is mug, and ‘e says, ‘I suppose you couldn’t spare a sup?’ Well, I let ‘im ‘ave a drop, and ‘e pretty nearly drained me. ‘I’ll tell you all about it,’ ‘e says. ‘It’s like this--like this ‘ere. I’m a hartist, that’s what I am--a profeshunal--yes. And I’ve got a hingagement to-night at one of the fust music-’alls in London--the very fust. I’m going to do my hextra speshul turn. It’ll be worth to me every farden of ‘arf-a-quid--yes. And now it’s orf.’ I says, ‘‘Ow do yer make that out?’ ‘E pulls up the tails of ‘is coat, ‘‘Cause of them. Speaking, as it might be, as one hartist to another hartist, as a hartist, ‘ow would you like to go on to do a hextra speshul turn in one of the fust music-’alls in London in them for trousers? And, mind you, mine’s a drawin’-room entertainment, and no lies--that’s what mine is. Yes, straight.’ ‘Well,’ I says, ‘I shouldn’t.’ ‘E says, ‘Of course you wouldn’t; you couldn’t. Why, they’d ‘oot at yer. Yes. So I’ve got to chuck it.’ I says, ‘That’s ‘ard.’ ‘E says,’ It is ‘ard; it’s bitter ‘ard--cruel ‘ard.’ ‘E leans agin the counter, and he takes ‘old, casual like, of a pewter what belonged to a chap as was be’ind ‘im, and ‘e lifts it to ‘is lips, as if ‘e didn’t know what ‘e was a-doing of. But the chap as the pewter belonged to, ‘e grabs ‘old of it, and ‘e says, ‘Excuse me, who’s a-payin’?’ And this bloke says, seemin’ quite took aback-like, ‘I beg your pardon, sir. It was a haccident.’ And the chap, ‘e says, ‘We’ll call it a haccident,’ and he drains the pewter right off, so as to make sure. And this ‘ere bloke what I’m a-telling you of, he wipes his mouth agin, and he looks at me. But I wasn’t a-taking any. So ‘e says, ‘And what makes it all the ‘arder is what I’m going to tell yer--you bein’ a friend o’ mine.’”