A CHILD OF THE JAGO
was like to burst. Deep-eyed and pale, he dragged around into Edge Lane, and so into New Jago Street.
Jerry Gullen's canary was harnessed to the barrow, and Jerry himself was piling the barrow with rags and bottles. Dicky stood and looked; he thought he would rub Canary's head, but then he changed his mind, and did not move. Jerry Gullen glanced at him furtively once or twice, and then said: "Good ole moke for wear, ain't 'e?"
"Yus," Dicky answered moodily, his talk half random. "'E'll peg out soon now."
"'Im? Not 'im. W'y I bet 'e'll live longer 'n you will. 'E ain't goin' to die."
"I think 'e'd like to," said Dicky, and slouched on.
Yes, Canary would be better off, dead. So would others. It would be a comfortable thing for himself if he could die quietly then and there. But it would
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