But beyond finding the old man, what a startling scene it was that greeted Robin’s eyes! For Piggy was seated cross-legged on the floor. Across from him the old man sat on an upturned bucket. Both were sipping a drink from the chipped, broken-handled cups. And between them, lying on a faded blue blanket, full of holes but otherwise spotlessly clean, lay Danny. He was on his back, gurgling happily as he waved his little arms in the air, reaching for a bit of red rag the old man was dangling over him with his free hand.
“There we are! There’s my little man!” he was saying as Robin, his jaw hanging open, came walking in.
“We got found out!” said Piggy happily, seeing Robin. “This here’s Mr. Gribbins.”
“Mr. Gribbins,” said he, “wot ain’t as deef as not ter be hearin’ cryin’ in his cellar, nor not so dim-witted’s not ter know it come from a babby. An’ even wiv my one eye, I ain’t so blind s not ter know a babby when I sees one. Wot d’you think o’ that?”
“This here’s Robin,” said Piggy.
“All right then,” said Mr. Gribbins. “Wot d’you think o’ that, Master Robin?”
Robin, needless to say, was so stunned he could hardly think at all. It was all he could to remember to close his jaw.
“Are … are … are you going to make us leave, Mr. Gribbins?” he was able to ask at last, his voice shaking.
“Wot?” exclaimed the old man. “And take this here sweet babby with you? You’ll stay, but not jist ’cause o’ the babby. I like the comp’ny, and I allus said as how there’s all this room down here jist goin’ ter waste. B’sides, I were in the streets when I were a lad. Sometimes someone were kind ter me. I’m jist passin’ it on, you see. But mind, like I been tellin’ yer Piggy, there’s rules wot got to be follered. It’s mostly jist this cellar wot’s mine ter take care o’, but I ain’t goin’ ter let no one go messin’ with wot’s upstairs neither.”
“I told Mr. Gribbins ’bout wot we promised the Landlord,” Piggy broke in. “No stealin’, no cheatin’, no gamblin’.”
“It’s the ’no stealin” bit wot I got ter be consarned wiv,” said Mr. Gribbins. “You ain’t been upstairs, so you don’t know wot I’m talkin’ ’bout.”
“Oh, we been upstairs. Went prowlin’ the’ first night we was here,” said Piggy. “An’ we never took nothin’.”
“Wot ’bout the box up front wiv the hole up top?” asked Mr. Gribbins.
“Oh, we figgered as how them kind o’ boxes is wot’s put there ter collect fer the poor,” Piggy said earnestly. “Even if we never maked a promise ter the Landlord, we’d never touch wot’s meant fer the poor.”
Mr. Gribbins took a long, hard look at Piggy with his one eye. “I think I got ter b’lieve you, Master Piggy,” he said. “But I got ter git goin’. Hannah … her who is Missus Gribbins … she’s ailin’ an’ can’t go noplace. So she sits front o’ the window watchin’ fer me ter come home. When’s the rest o’ yer friends comin’?”
Mr. Gribbins had no sooner finished speaking than Mouse appeared with his shoe-shine box, standing slack-jawed at the doorway just as Robin had done. It was a minor church miracle that he was actually able to hang on to his box without letting it go crashing to the floor, for his face had gone as white as his shoe blacking was black.
“Mr. Gribbins, this here’s Mouse. Mouse, this here’s Mr. Gribbins,” said Piggy who, without doubt noting Mouse’s condition, hastened to add, “An’ he says we c’n stay.”
“Mr. Gribbins, wot ain’t so deef as not ter be hearin’ cryin’ in his cellar,” he said, then repeating exactly all that had been said to Robin. He was clearly taking the greatest delight in making this speech. In truth, he repeated the same words for Duck and Spider when they finally appeared. That they all repeated the promises made to the Landlord, each without knowing what the others had said, gave him even more pleasure.
“Yer all good lads,” he said as he was leaving. Then his one eye crinkled up as he smiled broadly. “Wait ’til Hannah hears ’bout the babby helpin’ keep me comp’ny. She ain’t goin’ ter b’lieve it!” There was little doubt that Mr. Gribbins went home as happy a man as could be found in the city that night.
As for the boys, they could not stop talking about their good luck. Imagine it! Actually being allowed to live down there without having to sneak in and out and worry about being caught. Well, there was still some worry. For Mr. Gribbins had warned them that permission to live there should by all rights come from someone higher up the ladder than he was, he being at the very bottom.
“But it probable wouldn’ be ’lowed,” he had said. “Don’t seem right. Rats move in without no permission from no one. But boys an’ a babby ain’t ’lowed. Ain’t right’s all I c’n say.”
So care still had to be taken, but life would be easier than before. They could not believe their good luck, and talked about it all through their supper of the bits and pieces left over from the night before.
Duck had brought home with him a packet of needles and a spool of thread. Robin’s promise to sew up their ragged
