Page:A Child of the Jago - Arthur Morrison.djvu/228

 a Jago would do almost anything—except turn honest—to hear. And Dicky, startled, looked up, flushed and happy, over his shoulder.

"Rush-bags, eh?" the vicar went on, stooping and handing Dicky another rush from the heap. "And whose are they?"

The bags, the rushes, the heap, and the baby belong to Mrs. Bates, the widow, who was now in search of a new room. Dicky had often watched the weaving of fishmongers' frails, and, since it was work in which he had had no opportunity of indulging, it naturally struck him as a fascinating pastime. So that he was delighted by the chance which he had taken, and Mrs. Bates, for her part, was not sorry to find somebody to mind her property. Moreover, by hard work and the skill begot of much practice, she was able to earn the sum of some three farthings an hour at the rush-bags: a profit which her cupidity made her reluctant to lose, for even