"That's a foonny way to talk," he said.
"Foonny it may be," mocked Alf. "One thing I'll lay: it's not so foonny as your lingo."
The engineer shouldered a pace nearer.
"Throw a sneer, do you?"
"Ah," said Alf, secure in the presence of the clergyman. "I know all about you."
"Coom to that," retorted the Northerner, "I know a little about you. One o Stan's pups, aren't you?"
Bobby moved on and Alf at once followed suit.
"You keep down in the East-end, my lad!" he called over his shoulder. "We don't want none of it in Old Town. Nor we won't have it, neether."
Joe stood four-square at the cross-roads, bristling like a dog.
"Called yourself a Socialist when yo were down, didn't you?" he shouted. "And then turned Church and State when yo began to make. I know your sort!"