“Why not?”
“’Cos I ain’t a-goin’ to be lifted off my legs and ’ave my braces bust and be choked; not if I knows it, and not by ’Im. Wait till I set a jolly good flint a-flyin’ at the back o’ ’is jolly old ’ed some day! Now look t’other side the harch; not the side where Jarsper’s door is; t’other side.”
“I see.”
“A little way in, o’ that side, there’s a low door, down two steps. That’s Topeseses with ’is name on a hoval plate.”
“Good. See here,” said Mr. Datchery, producing a shilling. “You owe me half of this.”
“Yer lie! I don’t owe yer nothing; I never seen yer.”
“I tell you you owe me half of this, because I have no sixpence in my pocket. So the next time you meet me you shall do something else for me, to pay me.”
“All right, give us ’old.”
“What is your name, and where do you live?”
“Deputy. Travellers’ Twopenny, ’cross the green.”