“‘Obstructing the thoroughfare,’ says I.
“‘Taste ’em,’ he says, ‘they’re fust-rate to-day. Shove two or three in yer pocket for the young Bobbies.’
“‘Won’t do,’ I says; ‘we’ve got our orders, and off yer goes.’
“‘Get out,’ he says, ‘you’re chaffin’.’
“‘Not a bit of it,’ I says; ‘so stow nonsense and go on quietly, there’s a good feller.’
“‘All right,’ he says, seeing as we was serious, ‘all right.’ And then he sells a horinge to this one, and a horinge to that one, and sixpenn’orth to another one; but not a hinch would he move. So we waits a bit, and then I gives him another gentle hint or two.
“‘All right,’ he says agin, ‘wait a bit.’
“Well, yer knows, sir, this went on for about half an hour, and a crowd gets collected, and every time as I speaks to him, ‘All right,’ he says, ‘wait a bit,’ and then the crowd laughed and the boys hoorayed.
“I thinks to myself ‘This here won’t do,’ but neither Dick nor me wanted to begin, so I has one last try, and I says quietly,—
“‘Now, are you a-goin’ or not? Becos if you ain’t we must make yer.’