and 'Mr.Leney, the Wateringbury brewer, brother to Mr.Herbert Leney, is another heavy loser.' As for the hoppers, they did not count.Yet Iventure to assert that the several almost square meals lost by underfed William Buggles, and underfed Mrs.Buggles, and the underfed Buggles kiddies, was a greater tragedy than the L10,000lost by Mr.Fremlin.And in addition, underfed William Buggles'
tragedy might be multiplied by thousands where Mr.Fremlin's could not be multiplied by five.
To see how William Buggles and his kind fared, I donned my seafaring togs and started out to get a job.With me was a young East London cobbler, Bert, who had yielded to the lure of adventure and joined me for the trip.Acting on my advice, he had brought his 'worst rags,'
and as we hiked up the London Road out of Maidstone he was worrying greatly for fear we had come too ill-dressed for the business.
Nor was he to be blamed.When we stopped in a tavern the publican eyed us gingerly, nor did his demeanor brighten till we flashed the color of our cash.The natives along the road were all dubious; and 'bean-feasters' from London, dashing past in coaches, cheered and jeered and shouted insulting things after us.But before we were done with the Maidstone district my friend found that we were as well clad, if not better, than the average hopper.Some of the bunches of rags we chanced upon were marvellous.