midday
`` You much better be my little nipper , '' said Beale . `` Steady on , mate . ` Ow 'm I to wheel the bloomin ' pram if you goes on like as if you was a bag of eels ? '' They camped by a copse for the midday meal , sat on the grass , made a fire of sticks , and cooked herrings in a frying-pan , produced from one of the knobbly bundles . `` It 's better 'n Fiff of November , '' said Dickie ; `` and I do like you . I like you nexter my own daddy and Mr. Baxter next door . '' `` That 's all right , '' said Mr. Beale awkwardly .