"I got nine," he said. "Yours younger'n you?"

"Yes."

"Lot of bother with the landlord?"

"Yes, a good lot."

"Had any bailiffs in yet?"

"Yes, two."

They compared notes a while longer, and tailed off into a silence
which lasted three minutes and grew awkward towards the end.

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. He rubbed round uneasily on the bench,
fidgeted with the vise, drummed his fingers, whistled, and finally
thrust his hands in his pockets and dropped on his feet.