"Why, as to that, I have not much time for eating and drinking.
Generally I eat my dinner as I go along the road, where there's lots
of blackberries by way of pudding--which is grand! Supper, when I do
get it, I like best on this bark-heap, after the men are away, and
the tan-yard's clear. Your father lets me stay."

"And where is your lodging, then? Where do you sleep?"

He hesitated--coloured a little. "To tell the truth--anywhere I can.
Generally, here."

"What, out-of-doors?"

"Just so."

I was much shocked. To sleep out-of-doors seemed to me the very
lowest ebb of human misery: so degrading, too--like a common tramp
or vagabond, instead of a decent lad.

"John, how can you--why do you--do such a thing?"

"I'll tell you," said he, sitting down beside me in a dogged way, as
if he had read my thoughts, guessed at my suspicions, and was
determined to show that he feared neither--that he would use his own
judgment, and follow his own will, in spite of anybody. "Look here.
I get three shillings a week, which is about fivepence a day; out of
that I eat threepence--I'm a big, growing lad, and it's hard to be
hungry. There's twopence left to pay for lodging. I tried it once--
twice--at the decentest place I could find, but--" here an expression