I waited a moment at the
bottom, and was just going to step off when I remembered that I 'ad got
my boots on, and I 'ad to go up agin and take 'em off.
I went down very slow the next time, and anybody who 'as been down an
iron ladder with thin, cold rungs, in their bare feet, will know why,
and I had just dipped my left foot in, when the wharf-bell rang.
I 'oped at fust that it was a runaway-ring, but it kept on, and the
longer it kept on, the worse it got. I went up that ladder agin and
called out that I was coming, and then I went into the office and just
slipped on my coat and trousers and went to the gate.
"Wot d'you want?" I ses, opening the wicket three or four inches and
looking out at a man wot was standing there.
"Are you old Bill?" he ses.
"I'm the watchman," I ses, sharp-like. "Wot d'you want?"
"Don't bite me!" he ses, purtending to draw back. "I ain't done no 'arm.
I've come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear's Head."
"Glass!" I ses, 'ardly able to speak.
"Yes, glass," he ses--"thing wot yer drink out of.
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