"'IT ONLY PAWNS FOR A SHILLIN',' SAID DICKIE"
"You're a kind father," said the lady.
"Yes, isn't he, mother?" said the little girl. "May I give the little boy my penny?"
The two travellers were left facing each other, the richer by a penny, and oh—wonderful good fortune—a whole half-crown. They exchanged such glances as might pass between two actors as the curtain goes down on a successful dramatic performance.
"You did that bit fine," said Beale—"fine, you did. You been there before, ain't ye?"
"No, I never," said Dickie; "'ere's the steever."
"You stick to that," said Beale, radiant with delight; "you're a fair masterpiece, you are; you earned it honest if ever a kid done. Pats you on the napper, she does, and out with 'arf a dollar! A bit of all right, I call it!"
They went on up the hill as happy as any one need wish to be.
They had told lies, you observe, and had by these lies managed to get half a crown and a penny out of the charitable; and far from being ashamed of their acts, they were bubbling over with merriment and delight at their own cleverness. Please do not be too shocked. Remember that neither of them knew any better. To the elder tramp lies and begging were natural means of livelihood. To the little tramp the whole thing was a new and entrancing game of make-believe.