“That’s all right,” said Barney Bill, in a matter-of fact way, calm and godlike to Paul.  “You can make up a bed on the floor of the old ’bus with some of them there mats inside and we’ll turn in and have a sleep, and start at sunrise.”

He clambered into the van, followed by Paul, and lit an oil lamp.  In a few moments Paul’s bed was made.  He threw himself down.  The resilient surface of the mats was luxury after the sacking on the scullery stone.  Barney Bill performed his summary toilet, blew out the lamp and went to his couch.

Presently Paul started up, smitten by a pang straight through his heart.  He sprang to his feet.  “Mister,” he cried in the darkness, not knowing how else to address his protector.  “I mun go whoam.”

“Wot?” exclaimed the other.  “Thought better of it already?  Well, go, then, yer little ’eathen ’ippocrite!”

“I’ll coom back,” said Paul.

“Yer afeared, yer little rat,” said Barney Bill, out of the blackness.

“I’m not,” retorted Paul indignantly.  “I’m freeten’d of nowt.”

“Then what d’yer want to go for?  If you’ve made up yer mind to come along of me, just stay where you are.  If you go home they’ll nab you and whack you for staying out late, and lock you up, and you’ll not be able to get out in time in the morning.  And I ain’t a-going to wait for yer, I tell yer straight.”

“I’ll be back,” said Paul.

“Don’t believe it.  Good mind not to let yer go.”

The touch of genius suddenly brushed the boy’s forehead.  He drew from his pockets the handful of silver and copper that was his week’s wages, and, groping in the darkness, poured it over Barney Bill.  “Then keep that for me till I coom back.”

He fumbled hurriedly for the latch of the van door, found it, and leaped out into the waste under the stars, just as the owner of the van rose with a clatter of coins.  To pick up money is a deeply rooted human instinct.  Barney Bill lit his lamp, and, uttering juicy though innocuous flowers of anathema, searched for the scattered treasure.  When he had retrieved three shillings and sevenpence-halfpenny he peered out.  Paul was far away.  Barney Bill put the money on the shelf and looked at it in a puzzled way.  Was it an earnest of the boy’s return, or was it a bribe to let him go?  The former hypothesis seemed untenable, for if he got nabbed his penniless condition would be such an aggravation of his offence as to call down upon him a more ferocious punishment than he need have risked.  And why in the name of sanity did he want to go home?  To kiss his sainted mother in her sleep?  To pack his blankety portmanteau?  Barney Bill’s fancy took a satirical turn.  On the latter hypothesis, the boy was in deadly fear, and preferred the certainty of the ferocious punishment to the terrors of an unknown future.  Barney Bill smoked a reflective pipe, looking at the matter from the two points of view.  Not being able to decide, he put out his lamp, shut his door and went to sleep.