“Oh, give us some time to blow the man down!” roared Mr. Bushell, splashing and puffing amid much yellow soap and cold water in the wash-house, whither he had gone for a wash, on coming home from his tug.  The voice thundered and rolled through the house, and on the first floor, strangers not used to it grew muddled in their conversation.

    “Blow the man down, bully, blow the man down—
             To my Aye!   Aye!   Blow the man down!
    Singapore Harbour to gay London town—
    Oh, give us some time to blow the man down!”

Up on the first floor landing, “A-a-ah! pore dears!” said Mrs. Bushell, fat and sympathetic, looking up at Johnny, with her head aside and her hands clasped.  “Pore dears!  No, nobody shan’t disturb ’em!  Lor, ’ow I do feel for ’em; an’ you too, Mr. May.  Lucky you’re growed up to be a comfort to yer pore mar!  There—I won’t say nothin’ about yer father!  Runnin’ away so disgraceful an’ all.  But I can’t think what parents is comin’ to, some of ’em.  There’s the pore gal as is leavin’ the other two rooms o’ Monday, now—sich a quiet, p. 269well-be’aved young lady; we wouldn’t ’a’ let ’em stop a week if it wasn’t for ’er sake, bein’ so ’ard to find a respectable lodgin’s with sich a mother.  But there—’er mother worries the pore thing’s life out—alwis drinkin’—an’ now she’s akchally in gaol for breakin’ a public-’ouse winder!  An’ I sez—”

“Public-house window!” Johnny’s breath came short and thick.  “What’s her name?”

“P’raps I shouldn&............