“I was just coming to see you,” he ses.
“We’re just off on business,” ses
Ginger.
“I wasn’t going to stop,” ses the
nevy; “my young lady just told me to step along
and show uncle wot she has bought me. A silver
watch and chain and a gold ring. Look at it!”
He held his ’and under Ginger’s nose,
and Ginger stood there looking at it and opening and
shutting ’is mouth like a dying fish. Then
he took Peter by the arm and led’im away while
the nevy was opening ’is new watch and showing
Sam the works.
“’Ow much did she get out of you, Peter?”
ses Ginger, looking at ’im very hard.
“I don’t want any lies.”
“Three quid,” ses Peter, staring at ’im.
“Same ’ere,” ses Ginger, grinding
his teeth. “Did she give you a smack on
the side of your face?”
“Wot—are—you—talking
about, Ginger?” ses Peter.
“Did she smack your face too?” ses Ginger.
“Yes,” ses Peter.
“They’re as like as two peas, him and
’is brother,” said the night-watchman,
gazing blandly at the indignant face of the lighterman
on the barge below; “and the on’y way
I know this one is Sam is because Bill don’t
use bad langwidge. Twins they are, but the likeness
is only outside; Bill’s ’art is as white
as snow.”
He cut off a plug of tobacco, and, placing it in his
cheek, waited expectantly.
“White as snow,” he repeated.
“That’s me,” said the lighterman,
as he pushed his unwieldy craft from the jetty.
“I’ll tell Sam your opinion of ’im.
So long.”
The watchman went a shade redder than usual.
That’s twins all over, he said, sourly, always
deceiving people. It’s Bill arter all,
and, instead of hurting ’is feelings, I’ve
just been flattering of ’im up.
It ain’t the fust time I’ve ’ad
trouble over a likeness. I’ve been a twin
myself in a manner o’ speaking. It didn’t
last long, but it lasted long enough for me to always
be sorry for twins, and to make a lot of allowance
for them. It must be very ’ard to have
another man going about with your face on ’is
shoulders, and getting it into trouble.
It was a year or two ago now. I was sitting
one evening at the gate, smoking a pipe and looking
at a newspaper I ’ad found in the office, when
I see a gentleman coming along from the swing-bridge.
Well-dressed, clean-shaved chap ’e was, smoking
a cigarette. He was walking slow and looking
about ’im casual-like, until his eyes fell on
me, when he gave a perfect jump of surprise, and,
arter looking at me very ’ard, walked on a little
way and then turned back. He did it twice, and
I was just going to say something to ’im, something
that I ’ad been getting ready for ’im,
when he spoke to me.
“Good evening,” he ses.
“Good evening,” I ses, folding the paper
over and looking at ’im rather severe.
