A man that does 'is dooty always
has a lot of people ready to believe the worst of 'im.
I went back into the dark office and waited, and by and by I 'eard them
coming along to the gate and patting 'im on the back and saying he ought
to be in a pantermime instead o' wasting 'is time night-watching. He
left 'em at the gate, and then 'e came into the office smiling as if
he'd done something clever.
"Wot d'ye think of me for a understudy?" he ses, laughing. "They all
thought it was you. There wasn't one of 'em 'ad the slightest suspicion
--not one."
"And wot about my character?" I ses, folding my arms acrost my chest
and looking at him.
"Character?" he ses, staring. "Why, there's no 'arm in dancing; it's a
innercent enjoyment."
"It ain't one o' my innercent enjoyments," I ses, "and I don't want to
get the credit of it. If they hadn't been sitting in a pub all the
evening they'd 'ave spotted you at once."
"Oh!" he ses, very huffy. "How?"
"Your voice," I ses. "You try and mimic a poll-parrot, and think it's
like me. And, for another thing, you walk about as though you're
stuffed with sawdust."
"I beg your pardon," he ses; "the voice and the walk are exact.
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