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Gerty Mitchell–that was the gal’s name–‘adn’t heard of Bob’s accident, and when she did she gave a little scream, and putting ‘er arms round his neck, began to kiss ‘im right in front of George and her mother.

“You ought to give him one too,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, pointing to George.

George wiped ‘is mouth on the back of his ‘and, but Gerty pretended not to ‘ear.

“Fancy if you’d been drownded!” she ses, hugging Bob agin.

“He was pretty near,” ses George, shaking his ‘ead. “I’m a pore swimmer, but I made up my mind either to save ‘im or else go down to a watery grave myself.”

He wiped his mouth on the back of his ‘and agin, but all the notice Gerty took of it was to send her young brother Ted out for some beer. Then they all ‘ad supper together, and Mrs. Mitchell drank good luck to George in a glass o’ beer, and said she ‘oped that ‘er own boy would grow up like him. “Let ‘im grow up a good and brave man, that’s all I ask,” she ses. “I don’t care about ‘is looks.”

“He might have both,” ses George, sharp-like. “Why not?”

Mrs. Mitchell said she supposed he might, and then she cuffed young Ted’s ears for making a noise while ‘e was eating, and then cuffed ‘im agin for saying that he’d finished ‘is supper five minutes ago.

George and Bob walked ‘ome together, and all the way there George said wot a pretty gal Gerty was and ‘ow lucky it was for Bob that he ‘adn’t been drownded. He went round to tea with ‘im the next day to Mrs. Mitchell’s, and arter tea, when Bob and Gerty said they was going out to spend the evening together, got ‘imself asked too.

They took a tram-car and went to a music-hall, and Bob paid for the three of ’em. George never seemed to think of putting his ‘and in his pocket, and even arter the music-hall, when they all went into a shop and ‘ad stewed eels, he let Bob pay.

As I said afore, Bob Evans was chock-full of gratefulness, and it seemed only fair that he shouldn’t grumble at spending a little over the man wot ‘ad risked ‘is life to save his; but wot with keeping George at his room, and paying for ‘im every time they went out, he was spending a lot more money than ‘e could afford.

“You’re on’y young once, Bob,” George said to him when ‘e made a remark one arternoon as to the fast way his money was going, “and if it hadn’t ha’ been for me you’d never ‘ave lived to grow old.”

Wot with spending the money and always ‘aving George with them when they went out, it wasn’t long afore Bob and Gerty ‘ad a quarrel. “I don’t like a pore-spirited man,” she ses. “Two’s company and three’s none, and, besides, why can’t he pay for ‘imself? He’s big enough. Why should you spend your money on ‘im? He never pays a farthing.”

Bob explained that he couldn’t say anything because ‘e owed his life to George, but ‘e might as well ‘ave talked to a lamp-post. The more he argued the more angry Gerty got, and at last she ses, “Two’s company and three’s none, and if you and me can’t go out without George Crofts, then me and ‘im ‘ll go out with-out you.”

She was as good as her word, too, and the next night, while Bob ‘ad gone out to get some ‘bacca, she went off alone with George. It was ten o’clock afore they came back agin, and Gerty’s eyes were all shining and ‘er cheeks as pink as roses. She shut ‘er mother up like a concertina the moment she began to find fault with ‘er, and at supper she sat next to George and laughed at everything ‘e said.

George and Bob walked all the way ‘ome arter supper without saying a word, but arter they got to their room George took a side-look at Bob, and then he ses, suddenlike, “Look ‘ere! I saved your life, didn’t I?”