"Well,I'm off,"cried Chook at last."Wot'll I tell the blokes?"Jonah was silent for a moment,with a sombre look in his eyes.Then he pulled himself together.
"Let 'er go,"he cried grimly;"the kid can wait."On the stroke of eleven,as they reached the "Angel",the huge lamps were extinguished,the doors swung open and vomited a stream of men on to the footpath,their loud voices bringing the noise and heat of the bar into the quiet street.They dispersed slowly,talking immoderately,parting with the regret of lovers from the warm bar with its cheerful light and pleasant clink of glasses.The doors were closed,but the bar was still noisy,and the laggards slipped out cautiously by the side door,where a barman kept watch for the police.Presently the bricklayer came out,alone.He stood on the footpath,slightly fuddled,his giddiness increased by the fresh air.Immediately Chook lurched forward to meet him,with a drunken leer.
"'Ello,Bill,fancy meetin'yous!"he mumbled.
The man,swaying slightly,stared at him in a fog.
"I dunno you,"he muttered.
"Wot,yer dunno me,as worked wid yer on that job in Kent Street?Dunno Joe Parsons,as danced wid yer missis at the bricklayers'picnic?"The man stopped to think,trying to remember,but his brain refused the effort.
"Orl right,"he muttered;"come an''ave a drink."And he turned to the bar.
"No fear,"cried Chook,taking him affectionately by the arm,"no more fer me!I'm full up ter the chin,an'so are yous.""Might's well 'ave another,"said the man,obstinately.
Chook pulled him gently away from the hotel,along the street.
"It's gittin'late;'ow'll yer ole woman rous w'en yer git 'ome?""Sez anythin'ter me,break 'er bleedin'jaw,"muttered the bricklayer.
And then his eyes flamed with foolish,drunken anger."I earn the money,don'I,an'I spend it,don'I?"he inquired.And he refused to move till Chook answered his question.
The Push closed quietly in.