"That's a lie!" shouted the man. "Didn't I leave the door open? Didn't I shove the dam thing right under the curtain? Begod, I did. Don't tell lies to yeself, ole Emma. It was me as done it. It was me as burnt that little beggar's arm. Wish to Gawd I'd burnt me eyes out first."
"Go' bless my soul," observed the stupid man, "what is the use of quarrellin' over trifles? Whatever does it matter whether the lamp moved the curtain or the curtain moved the lamp? Thing's done, ain't it? Boy's arm's all charred up. Why argue? Take an' get a good night's sleep. Ain't we all 'ad trouble? When my first went down——"
"I 'it 'im to-day," said the woman. "For eatin' coal, it was."
The man drew her hand into his, which was not more rough and shapeless. "'E thought the world o' you, ole Emma," he observed.
"'Ow long to nine o'clock, 'Erb? 'Ow long afore they'll let us see 'im? The gentleman said, 'Don't worry.' ... We was mad to leave 'is cradle there."
"It's all so full in the room," replied 'Erb. "I was gointer move next quarter. Allus next quarter, Gawd strike me! If we'd took that room we was lookin' at Easter time, there was gas there an'—an'——"
"I wanted to 'ave it," whined the woman.
"When," pursued her husband, "when I was puttin' them rockers on the sugar-box, I did say as we'd 'ave a 'ooded top, to finish it. But I changed me mind. Devil take me! I changed me mind."
"It'd 'a' saved 'im, that would," observed the woman. "We'd 'a' found 'im sittin' up an' laughin' at the fireworks.... Remember that day when the water come in?"
"R!" answered the man. "Rare tickled 'e was. Remembers it to this day. I'll lay any money 'e was tryin' to tell me about it when we was in the park o' Sunday. 'E——"