“Don’t owe us anything, indeed!” said Mrs Sturt, in her vinegary voice; “why, there’s seven pun’ ten, and seven for grosheries!”
“Oh! this is cruel as it’s scandalous and false!” cried Mrs Lane, in reply to Mrs Jenkles’s look. “I do not owe a shilling.”
“Which you do—there!” cried Mrs Sturt; “and not a thing goes off these premishes till it’s paid.”
“And they don’t go off, nor them nayther, when it is paid,” said Barney, grinning offensively. “So now, Mrs What’s-yer-name, you’d better be off!”
Mrs Jenkles had been very quiet, but her face had been growing red and fiery during all this, and she gave a sigh of relief as she patted Netta on the shoulder; for at that moment Sam came slowly into the room, closed the door, and bowed and smiled to Mrs Lane and her daughter.
“Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles; and then she stopped almost aghast at her husband’s proceedings, for with a sharp flourish of the hand, he knocked Barney’s pipe from his mouth, the stem breaking close to his teeth, and he looking perfectly astonished at the cabman’s daring.
“What are yer smoking like that for, here? Can’t yer see it makes the young lady cough?”
“I’ll—” exclaimed Barney, rushing at Sam menacingly; and Netta uttered a shriek.
“Don’t you mind him, Miss,” said Sam, laughing, “it’s only his fun. It’s a little playful way he’s got with him, that’s all. Which is the boxes?”
“That trunk, and the carpet-bag, Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles; and Sam advanced to them.