Old Sam walked straight on whistling, and every now and then looking down
at 'is button-hole, until by-and-by he turned down a street on the right
and went into a little shop. Ginger Dick and Peter waited for 'im at the
corner, but he was inside for so long that at last they got tired o'
waiting and crept up and peeped through the winder.

It was a little tobacconist's shop, with newspapers and penny toys and
such-like; but, as far as Ginger could see through two rows o' pipes and
the Police News, it was empty. They stood there with their noses pressed
against the glass for some time, wondering wot had 'appened to Sam, but
by-and-by a little boy went in and then they began to 'ave an idea wot
Sam's little game was.

As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back of the
shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of about forty
came out. Her 'ead pushed the _Police News_ out o' the way and her 'and
came groping into the winder arter a toy.

Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, while he
pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As the little
boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in.

"I want a pipe, please," he ses, smiling at 'er; "a clay pipe--one o' your
best." The woman handed 'im down a box to choose from, and just then
Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open door at a boot wot wanted
lacing up, gave a big start and ses, "Why! Halloa!"

"Wot's the matter?" ses the woman, looking at 'im.