“Please ’m.”
“Would you like it brown?”
“Oh, please ’m.”
“And you got some string??
“Only cottony stuff,” said Bealby, disembowelling a trouser pocket. “Wiv knots. But I dessay I can manage.”
“You’d better have a bit of good string with it, my dear,” said the pleasant woman, whose generosity was now fairly on the run, “Then you can do your parcel up nice and tidy....”
§ 6
The white horse was already in the shafts of the caravan, and William, a deaf and clumsy man of uncertain age and a vast sharp nosiness, was lifting in the basket of breakfast gear and grumbling in undertones at the wickedness and unfairness of travelling on Sunday, when Bealby returned to gladden three waiting women.
“Ah!” said the inconspicuous lady, “I knew he’d come.”
“Look at his poor little precious parsivel,” said the actress.