"In a minute, sir, when I've recovered myself."
He waited the minute, and down came the woman, with a vacant smile on her face, and a number of pieces of broken crockery in her hands, which she let fall with a crash on the floor of the shop.
"The cat, eh?"
"Yes, sir, the cat."
"Where did it come from? The sky? What is that sticking out of your pocket? The skeleton of the cat? No. A bottle. Empty, of course."
"Yes, sir, worse luck."
"Mrs. Chizlet," said Mr. Loveday, gravely, "last Friday you broke two dishes."
"Not me, sir."
"Well, the cat. This day week the cat broke all my cups and saucers. If I keep you in my service, in the course of another week there will not be a sound piece of crockery or glass in the place. Therefore I will not trouble you to come here again."
"We're all born, and none buried," said the charwoman, with a silly smile.