"Didn't yer advertise for a 'ousekeeper?" continued the woman.
"No!"
"Yer a blinkin' liar."
At this uncompromising rejoinder Mr. Hearty started. He was unaccustomed to such directness of speech.
"Unless you are civil I shall order you out of my shop," retorted Mr. Hearty angrily.
"An' if yer do I shan't go; see?" The woman placed her hands on her hips and looked at Mr. Hearty insultingly. "Look at 'im," she continued, addressing the crowd, "playin' 'is dirty jokes on pore people. I paid eightpence return to get 'ere all the way from Brixton, then 'e says it's a joke."
There was an ominous murmur from the others. All sorts of epithets were hurled at Mr. Hearty.
"Will yer pay our fares?"
"I'll punch 'is bloomin' 'ead till it aches!"
"Let me get at 'im!"