"'Ain't it wunnerful the sense they've got,' he ses to Mr. Bunnett, wot
was still staring arter the dog.
"'Sense?' ses the old gen'leman.
"'Yes,' ses Bob smiling. 'His food ain't been agreeing with 'im lately
and he's starving hisself for a bit to get round agin, and 'e knew that
'e couldn't trust hisself alongside o' this biskit. Wot a pity men ain't
like that with beer. I wish as 'ow Bill Chambers and Henery Walker and a
few more 'ad been 'ere just now.'
"Mr. Bunnett agreed with 'im, and said wot a pity it was everybody 'adn't
got Bob Pretty's commonsense and good feeling.
"'It ain't that,' ses Bob, shaking his 'ead at him; 'it ain't to my
credit. I dessay if Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins, and Charlie Stubbs and
Dicky Weed 'ad been brought up the same as I was they'd 'ave been a lot
better than wot I am.'
"He bid Mr. Bunnett good-bye becos 'e said he'd got to get back to 'is
work, and Mr. Bunnett had 'ardly got 'ome afore Henery Walker turned up
full of anxiousness to ask his advice about five little baby kittens wot
'is old cat had found in the wash-place: the night afore.
"'Drownd them little innercent things, same as most would do, I can't,'
he ses, shaking his 'ead; 'but wot to do with 'em I don't know.'
"'Couldn't you find 'omes for 'em?' ses Mr.
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