Have to hurry an' walk to be there in time that day. What
chance does that give me to look for a job? S'pose I don't walk. S'pose
I look for a job? In no time there's night come, an' no bed. No sleep
all night, nothin' to eat, what shape am I in the mornin' to look for
work? Got to make up my sleep in the park somehow" (the vision of
Christ's Church, Spitalfield, was strong on me) "an' get something to
eat. An' there I am! Old, down, an' no chance to get up."
"Used to be a toll-gate 'ere," said the Carter. "Many's the time I've
paid my toll 'ere in my cartin' days."
"I've 'ad three 'a'penny rolls in two days," the Carpenter announced,
after a long pause in the conversation. "Two of them I ate yesterday,
an' the third to-day," he concluded, after another long pause.
"I ain't 'ad anything to-day," said the Carter. "An' I'm fagged out. My
legs is hurtin' me something fearful."
"The roll you get in the 'spike' is that 'ard you can't eat it nicely
with less'n a pint of water," said the Carpenter, for my benefit. And,
on asking him what the "spike" was, he answered, "The casual ward. It's
a cant word, you know."
But what surprised me was that he should have the word "cant" in his
vocabulary, a vocabulary that I found was no mean one before we parted.
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