"We're going to have that hamper back," he ses, as soon as Mr. Smith 'ad
gone back to the bar, "but it won't do to let 'im know. He don't like to
think that Bob Pretty was one too many for 'im."
"Let's all go to Bob Pretty's and take it," ses Peter Gubbins, wot 'ad
been in the Militia.
Dicky Weed shook his 'ead. "He'd 'ave the lor on us for robbery," he
ses; "there's nothing he'd like better."
They talked it over till closing-time, but nobody seemed to know wot to
do, and they stood outside in the bitter cold for over arf an hour still
trying to make up their minds 'ow to get that hamper back. Fust one went
off 'ome and then another, and at last, when there was on'y three or four
of 'em left, Henery Walker, wot prided himself on 'is artfulness, 'ad an
idea.
"One of us must get Bob Pretty up 'ere to-morrow night and stand 'im a
pint, or p'r'aps two pints," he ses. "While he's here two other chaps
must 'ave a row close by his 'ouse and pretend to fight. Mrs. Pretty and
the young 'uns are sure to run out to look at it, and while they are out
another chap can go in quiet-like and get the hamper."
It seemed a wunnerful good idea, and Bill Chambers said so; and 'e
flattered Henery Walker up until Henery didn't know where to look, as the
saying is.
"And wot's to be done with the hamper when we've got it?" ses Sam Jones.
"Have it drawed for agin," ses Henery.
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