Then, unclasping his hands, he lowered his basket to the ground and set it down.

Stealthily creeping close up to Helmsley's side, he examined the prone figure from head to foot with quick and eager scrutiny.

Spying the little volume of Keats on the grass where it had dropped from the slumberer's relaxed hand, he took it up gingerly, turning over its pages with grimy thumb and finger.
"Portry!" he ejaculated.

"Glory be good to me! 'E's a reg'ler noddy none-such! An' measly old enuff to know better!" He threw the book on the grass again with a sniff of contempt.

At that moment Helmsley stirred, and opening his eyes fixed them full and inquiringly on the lowering face above him.
"'Ullo, gaffer! Woke up, 'ave yer ?" said the man gruffly.