“He stopped there till Ginger and Peter came out, and then, drawing ’imself up in a proud way, he told ’em their characters and wot he thought about ’em.  And he said ’e never wanted to see wot they called their faces agin as long as he lived.

“‘I’ve done with you,’ he ses, ‘both of you, for ever.’

“‘All right,’ ses Ginger moving off.  ’Ta-ta for the present.  Let’s ’ope he’ll come ‘ome in a better temper, Peter.’

“‘Ome?’ ses Sam, with a nasty laugh, “’ome?  D’ye think I’m coming back to breathe the same air as you, Ginger?  D’ye think I want to be suffocated?’

“He held his ’ead up very ’igh, and, arter looking at them as if they was dirt, he turned round and walked off with his nose in the air to spend the evening by ’imself.

“His temper kept him up for a time, but arter a while he ’ad to own up to ’imself that it was very dull, and the later it got the more he thought of ’is nice warm bed.  The more ’e thought of it the nicer and warmer it seemed, and, arter a struggle between his pride and a few ’arf-pints, he got ’is good temper back agin and went off ’ome smiling.

“The room was dark when ’e got there, and, arter standing listening a moment to Ginger and Peter snoring, he took off ’is coat and sat down on ’is bed to take ’is boots off.  He only sat down for a flash, and then he bent down and hit his ’ead an awful smack against another ’ead wot ’ad just started up to see wot it was sitting on its legs.

“He thought it was Peter or Ginger in the wrong bed at fust, but afore he could make it out Ginger ’ad got out of ’is own bed and lit the candle.  Then ’e saw it was a stranger in ’is bed, and without saying a word he laid ’old of him by the ’air and began dragging him out.

“‘Here, stop that!’ ses Ginger catching hold of ’im.  ’Lend a hand ’ere, Peter.’

“Peter lent a hand and screwed it into the back o’ Sam’s neck till he made ’im leave go, and then the stranger, a nasty-looking little chap with a yellow face and a little dark moustache, told Sam wot he’d like to do to him.

“‘Who are you?’ ses Sam, ‘and wot are you a-doing of in my bed?’

“‘It’s our lodger,’ ses Ginger.

“‘Your wot?’ ses Sam, ’ardly able to believe his ears.

“‘Our lodger,’ ses Peter Russet.  ’We’ve let ’im the bed you said you didn’t want for sixpence a night.  Now you take yourself off.’

“Old Sam couldn’t speak for a minute; there was no words that he knew bad enough, but at last he licks ’is lips and he ses, ’I’ve paid for that bed up to Saturday, and I’m going to have it.’

“He rushed at the lodger, but Peter and Ginger got hold of ’im agin and put ’im down on the floor and sat on ’im till he promised to be’ave himself.  They let ’im get up at last, and then, arter calling themselves names for their kind-’artedness, they said if he was very good he might sleep on the floor.