“I hope this ain’t canal milk,” said Jack with a laugh, as he pocketed the change and took the cup, after giving the lad his penny. “They sell horrid stuff to the boats sometimes,—mostly chalk and canal-water, I believe.” He poised the cup, still munching the dry biscuit, and glanced furtively at the door. The loungers had not yet begun to leave, and there was a crowd in the way.