Ern slouched up with that admixture of bluff, lordly insouciance, and aggrieved innocence that is the honoured defence of dog and man alike on such occasions.
"You've done us," she said almost vengefully.
"What are I done then?" asked the accused, feigning abrupt indignation.
Ruth dismissed the child, and turned on Ernie.
"Got us turn into the street—me and my babies," she answered, splendidly indignant. "A chap's been round arter the house, while you was up before the beaks settlin whether you were for Lewes Gaol or not. Says Alf's let it him a week from Saraday, and we got to go. I wouldn't let him in."
"Ah," said Ernie stubbornly, "don't you worry. Alf's got to give us notice first. And he daren't do that."
Ruth was not to be appeased.
"Why daren't he, then?" she asked.
"I'll tell you for why," answered Ernie. "He's goin up before the Watch Committee come Thursday to get his licence for his blessed Touring Syndicate. We've friends on that Committee, good friends—Mr. Pigott, and the Colonel, not to say Mr. Geddes; and Alf knaws it. He ain't goin to do anythink to annoy them just now. Knaws too much, Alf do."
Ruth was not convinced.