But Jack looked so much in earnest that she said, shortly-- "You're about right there.

I'm a poor woman, but I hope I know better than to make a beast of myself to my own childer." Then she knew Billy, and could tell us where he lived after all.
Jack began, almost confidentially-- "Do you think--" But he got no farther just then, for we had not noticed a group of idlers who, attracted by our presence in the court, and curious to know our business, had gathered round, and now began, half in jest, half in earnest, to hustle us, crying-- "Go on home.

Go and teach yourselves.

We don't want none of your ABC." We thought it wise to walk slowly on, without appearing to be running away.
About half way up the court, however, a further stoppage occurred.
This was occasioned by the appearance of another stranger in the court besides ourselves--a clergyman, who, with a small but offence-less crowd at his heels, was making a grand tour of the various houses and flats.
He was a tall, kindly-looking man, with hair just turning white, who looked like a man who did not spare himself or live for himself.

He had a pleasant word for everybody, however unpleasant and unpromising they might seem, and bore all the remarks and jests of unfriendly loafers with great good-humour and composure.
The sight of him in the midst of our difficulties was most welcome.