In the neighbourhood of Shoreditch, a part of the East End of London inhabited mostly by very poor, hard-working people, and seldom visited by the grand West End folk, there lived some years ago a father and mother and two little boys. The father had a Punch and Judy show, which supported the family, and kept them all employed except little Benny, the baby boy. While the father was showing off Punch inside the green curtain, and making those funny nasal noises which all London children know so well, the mother used to stand by with Benny asleep in her arms, watching that no inquisitive ones should come too close, and peep into the mysteries behind the green curtain. Then Froggy, the elder boy, who was not much more than a baby either in size, but was very wise beyond his years, used to stand by the drum, keeping shrewd watch on all the windows from which people could see the performance, so that when it was ended, and the time came for collecting the money, he could tell mother exactly where to go for it. This little boy’s real name was Tommy, but his father had always called him Froggy, because he was so often cold, and croaked sometimes when he had a cough, like those little creatures who live in the ditches, and have such very wide mouths and large goggle eyes.
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