"We ought to ha' done," ses Peter, shaking his 'ead.
"Told me?" ses Sam, staring at 'em. "Told me wot?"
"Why me and Peter gave it up," ses Ginger; "but, o' course, p'r'aps you don't mind."
"Mind wot?" ses Sam.
"It's wonderful 'ow quiet she kept it," ses Peter.
Old Sam stared at 'em agin, and then he asked 'em to speak in plain English wot they'd got to say, and not to go taking away the character of a woman wot wasn't there to speak up for herself.
"It's nothing agin 'er character," ses Ginger. "It's a credit to her, looked at properly," ses Peter Russet.
"And Sam'll 'ave the pleasure of bringing of 'em up," ses Ginger.
"Bringing of 'em up?" ses Sam, in a trembling voice and turning pale; "bringing who up?"
"Why, 'er children," ses Ginger. "Didn't she tell you? She's got nine of 'em."
Sam pretended not to believe 'em at fust, and said they was jealous; but next day he crept down to the greengrocer's shop in the same street, where Ginger had 'appened to buy some oranges one day, and found that it was only too true. Nine children, the eldest of 'em only fifteen, was staying with diff'rent relations owing to scarlet-fever next door.
Old Sam crept back 'ome like a man in a dream, with a bag of oranges he didn't want, and, arter making a present of the engagement-ring to Ginger—if 'e could get it—he took the fust train to Tilbury and signed on for a v'y'ge to China.