"Aren't all your clients?" Harry says, ushering the boy down along the corridor towards the backstage of the Theatre, "How much did he give you?" He asked, all business, as his hands slipped into his pockets, fingers brushing over the coins the other boys had handed him this morning. A shilling or so at least. Not too bad, although he knew they were all capable or doing better.
"Greedy." He managed, reaching out and ruffling the boy's hair. "If Nell ain't had it all, then you could have something." He paused, opening the door that lead into the backstage, the corridor here lined with doors that opened onto the boy's dressing rooms, and for the majority, their bedrooms too. At the end of that corridor was the kitchen. "Better run on ahead and make sure he hasn't scoffed the lot."