Slinger brast aght o’th’ door like a roarin lion,—­but he wor sooin collard, an’ he wor soa bedisend with soft cake an’ puttaty pillins at his own mother could’nt ha owned him.

“Dooant yo know who aw am,” he sputtered aght, “Awm Slinger, yo know me.”

“Bith mass it is Slinger,” said Jim,—­“its noabdy else,” whativer has ta been dooin to get into a mess like this?  Tha may thank thy stars tha worn’t burnt to th’ deeath.”

“Well aw dooant know ’at it means mich whether a chap’s burnt or draand, but awther on ’em befoor being smoord,—­did iver ony body see sich a seet as aw am?”

“Why tha luks like a sheep heead wi brain sauce tem’d over it, said one.”

“He needn’t carry a scent bottle wi’ him, they’ll be able to smell him withaat,” said another.

“Ha shall aw have to get clean,” says Slinger.  “Aw can’t goa hooam this pictur?”

“Tha’ll have to get sombdy to scrape thi daan, unless tha thinks tha’s getten enuff o’th’ scrape tha’rt in already;—­but aw think tha’d better goa hooam to th’ wife an’ tell her tha’s comed.”

“He’s noa need to do that, if shoo’s ought of a nooas sho’ll find it aght.

“Well if this is what comes o’ being a bobby aw’ll drop it, but for gooidness sake lads, niver split for aw’st niver hear th’ last o’ this do.”

At last they persuaded Slinger to goa hooam.  What he said to th’ wife or what shoo said to him folk niver knew, but certain it is ’at shoo went an’ left him an’ lived wi her mother for aboon a wick at after.

When he turned aght next mornin to goa see th’ superintendent, he luked like a gate-post ’at’s studden in a rookery for six months.  He’d to wait a bit afoor he could see him, but when he did he said “Maister!” aw’ve comed to get turned off for awm sick o’ this job—­no moor cunstublin for me, aw’ve had enuff.”

“Why my good man,” he said, “what’s up?  Have yo dropt in for summat yo dooant like?”

“Aw have,—­an’ summat’s been dropt onto me at aw dooant like, an aw’ve made up my mind to throw up th’ drumsticks an’ tak to honest hard wark for a livin.”

“Well young man, yo seem dissatisfied, but yo should remember ’at we’re like soldiers in a war, we’re feightin agean things ’at isn’t reight, its nut allus straight forrard, it seems yors has’nt been this time, but its one o’th chances o’ war’ at yo mun expect.”

“It may be a chance o’ war, but it’ll be a chance o’ better afoor yo catch me at it agean, so gooid mornin.”

When he’d getten into th’ street he langed to goa up to owd Molly’s agean, but thowts o’th’ neet afoor kept him back, and varry weel it wor soa, for Jim o’ Long wor dooin his best to flay th’ owd woman woll shoo’d be glad to have him and shut up th’ wisht shop,—­an’ be shot he managed, for shoo promised shoo’d wed him in a month, an’ shoo wor as gooid as her word.