Page 169 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

Lord Jesus’ with less shame than anyone I ever saw. No
doubt he had learned the knack in prison.
Tea ended, and I saw the tramps looking furtively at one
another. An unspoken thought was running from man to
man—could we possibly make off before the prayers start-
ed? Someone stirred in his chair—not getting up actually,
but with just a glance at the door, as though half suggesting
the idea of departure. The lady quelled him with one look.
She said in a more benign tone than ever:
‘I don’t think you need go QUITE yet. The casual ward
doesn’t open till six, and we have time to kneel down and
say a few words to our Father first. I think we should all feel
better after that, shouldn’t we?’
The red-nosed man was very helpful, pulling the harmo-
nium into place and handing out the prayerbooks. His back
was to the lady as he did this, and it was his idea of a joke to
deal the books like a pack of cards, whispering to each man
as he did so, ‘There y’are, mate, there’s a—nap ‘and for yer!
Four aces and a king!’ etc.
Bareheaded, we knelt down among the dirty teacups
and began to mumble that we had left undone those things
that we ought to have done, and done those things that we
ought not to have done, and there was no health in us. The
lady prayed very fervently, but her eyes roved over us all
the time, making sure that we were attending. When she
was not looking we grinned and winked at one another,
and whispered bawdy jokes, just to show that we did not
care; but it stuck in our throats a little. No one except the
red-nosed man was self-possessed enough to speak the

1 Down and Out in Paris and London