He looked after Andrew with a sharp pain of sympathy when he went away with the roll of newspaper sticking out of his pocket.
"Poor old chap," he said to the facetious man, thrusting his face angrily towards him.

"He has had a devil of a time since he begun to grow old.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Wait till you begin to drop behind.

It's what's bound to come to the whole boiling of us." "Mind your jaw," said the first man, with a scowl.
"You'd better mind yours," said Dixon, slashing furiously at the leather.
That noon Dixon offered Andrew, shamefacedly, taking him aside lest the other men see, a piece of pie of a superior sort which his mother had put into his dinner bag, but Andrew thanked him kindly and refused it.