"Look here, Arvie!" he said in low, hurried tones. "Keep close to me
goin' out to-night, 'n' if any of the other chaps touches yer
or says anything to yer I'll hit 'em!"

Then he swung himself round the corner of a carriage "body" and was gone.

. . . . .

Arvie was late out of the shop that evening. His boss was a sub-contractor
for the coach-painting, and always tried to find twenty minutes' work
for his boys just about five or ten minutes before the bell rang.
He employed boys because they were cheap and he had a lot of rough work,
and they could get under floors and "bogies" with their pots and brushes,
and do all the "priming" and paint the trucks. His name was Collins,
and the boys were called "Collins' Babies". It was a joke in the shop
that he had a "weaning" contract. The boys were all "over fourteen",
of course, because of the Education Act. Some were nine or ten -- wages from
five shillings to ten shillings. It didn't matter to Grinder Brothers
so long as the contracts were completed and the dividends paid.
Collins preached in the park every Sunday. But this has nothing to do
with the story.

When Arvie came out it was beginning to rain and the hands had all gone
except Bill, who stood with his back to a verandah-post,
spitting with very fair success at the ragged toe of one boot. He looked up,
nodded carelessly at Arvie, and then made a dive for a passing lorry,
on the end of which he disappeared round the next corner,
unsuspected by the driver, who sat in front with his pipe in his mouth
and a bag over his shoulders.