"But we must have some, we can't go to bed without coal," snapped the girl, an undersized, shrewish little creature.
"Well, Queenie," responded Bindle imperturbably, "you'll 'ave to take some firewood to bed with you, if you wants company; coal you don't get to-night. Wot about a log?"
"My name's not 'Queenie,'" snapped the girl.
"Ain't it now," remarked Bindle; "shows your father and mother 'adn't an eye for the right thing, don't it?"
"I tell you we must have coal," persisted the girl.
"Now look 'ere, Queenie, my dear, a gal as wants to take coal to bed with 'er ain't—well, she ain't respectable. Now orf you goes like a good gal."
"It's in case of raids, you saucy 'ound!" screeched "Queenie." "I'll get even with you yet, you red-nosed little bounder! I'll pay you!"
"Funny where they learns it all," remarked Bindle to Number Eleven, a quiet little old lady who wanted a postage stamp.
The little lady smiled.
"She won't be wantin' coal in the next world if she goes on like that, will she, mum?" said Bindle as he handed her the stamp.