“To be sure I will, my dear, of course. There, be quick, before any one comes, and do it up neat in a napkin, there’s a good gal, and I’ll bring you a lobster next time I come.”
“There, now, and you promised you wouldn’t come no more.”
“Ah, well, I won’t then, my dear.”
“Then I’ll get you a bit this time; but mind, never no more.”
“No, never no more, my beauty. Only be quick.”
Liza disappeared, and Poll Perrow took off her basket and sat down on the edge, rubbing her knees and laughing heartily to herself, but smoothing her countenance again directly, as she heard her daughter’s step.
“There, mother,” whispered Liza, “and I feel just as if there was the police after me, same as they was after Master Harry. This is the last time, mind.”
“Yes, my beauty, the last time. What is there?”
“No, no, don’t open it,” cried the girl, laying her hand sharply upon the parcel she had given to her mother. “There’s half a pork pie, and a piece of seed cake, and a bit o’ chicken.”
“Any bread?”