"'Not yet, old 'un,' she replied, making no attempt to continue her work.
"To be addressed as 'old 'un' must have been especially humiliating to our reporter, who is a good-looking fellow of eight-and-twenty, but he did not resent it.
"'Wood won't catch, I suppose,' he said. 'Too damp, eh?'
"'Soppin',' said Sophy, though as a matter of fact there was no wood before her.
"'What are you looking so hard at me for?' asked our reporter. 'You'll make me blush presently.'
"'You blush!' laughed Sophy. 'I like that, I do. Look 'ere, old 'un. When you wants to blush, you'd better 'ire somebody to do it for you. I'll do it for tuppence a time.'
"'You would have to wash your face first,' said our reporter, entering into the humor of the situation.
"'I wouldn't mind doing that,' said Sophy, staring harder than ever at him, 'if you'd make it wuth my while. As for lookin' at you, a cat may look at a king.'
"'I'm not a king,' observed our reporter, 'and you're not a cat.'
"'Call me one, and you'll feel my clors. I'm reckonin' of you up, that's what I'm doing of.'