“’Tain’t enough,” said Mr Jarker; “it’s worth six. Look at the trouble.”
Mrs Jarker looked from her husband to the stranger and back again, and was about to speak, when her lord exclaimed roughly, “Shut Up!”
The visitor’s eyes flashed for a moment, and then she glanced hastily round the room, her gaze resting for a moment upon the ruffianly, bull-dog face of Jarker, and she hesitated; but another glance at the timid, gentle countenance of his wife seemed to reassure her, and she said hoarsely, with her look fixed upon the flinching woman, “I’ll give you six.”
“And if ’tain’t paid up reg’lar, I’m blest if I sha’n’t chuck it outer winder, or somethin’; so look out,” said Mr Jarker.
The visitor’s lips quivered, but, still gazing fixedly upon the woman, she said in the same hoarse voice: “I shall bring the money once a-week.”
“In advance, yer know,” growled Mr Jarker.
“Yes, yes; only be kind to it,” exclaimed the visitor with something like a sob, but without removing her eyes.
“O, ah! in course we will. We’re the right sort here, ain’t we, Poll?” growled Mr Jarker.
“Yes, Bill,” said his wife in a husky whisper.
“And now,” said Mr Bill Jarker, with what was meant for a pleasant smile, but which consisted of the closing of his eyes, and the display of his teeth,—“and now as we’ve made it all snug, you’ll stand somethin’; that’s what you’ll do, ain’t it now?”