noticing a wistful, hungry look in the child's eyes, "Have a bit?"
he asked.

He cut off a mighty hunk and put it into Paul's ready hand. Paul
perched himself beside him, and they both ate for a long while in
silence, dangling their legs. Now and again the host passed the tin
of tea to wash down the food. The flaming dragon died into a smoky
red above the town. A light or two already appeared in the fringe of
mean houses. Twilight fell rapidly.

"Oughtn't you to be getting home?"

Paul, his hunger appeased, grinned. His idea was to sneak into the
scullery just after the public-houses closed, when his mother would
be far too much occupied with Mr. Button to worry about him.
Chastisement would then be postponed till the morning. Artlessly he
laid the situation before his friend, who led him on to relate other
amenities of his domestic life.

"Well, I'm jiggered!" said Barney Bill. "She must be a she-devil!"

Paul cordially agreed. He had already imagined the Prince of
Darkness in the guise of Mr. Button; Mrs. Button was in every way
fit to be the latter's diabolical mate. Encouraged by sympathy and
shrewd questions, he sketched in broad detail his short career,
glorifying himself as the prize scholar and the erstwhile Grand
Llama of Budge Street, and drawing a dismal picture of the factory.
Barney Bill listened comprehendingly. Then, smoking a well-blackened
clay, he began to utter maledictions on the suffocating life in
towns and to extol his own manner of living. Having an appreciative