"Dunno!" was the reply. "She ain't opened the door yet."
"She opened it once," said the little man.
"Said it wasn't to let, then banged it to in my face," was the injured response.
"'Ere, let me 'ave a try," cried the woman in the foulard blouse, as she grasped the knocker and proceeded to awaken the echoes of Fenton Street. Corple Street at one end and Bransdon Road at the other, were included in the sound-waves that emanated from the Bindles' knocker.
Several neighbours, including Mrs. Grimps and Mrs. Sawney, came to their doors and gazed at the collection of people that now entirely blocked the pathway of No. 7. Three other women had joined the throng, together with a rag-and-bone man in dilapidated clothing, accompanied by a donkey and cart.
"A shame I calls it, a-keepin' folks 'angin' about like this," said one of the new arrivals.
"P'raps it's let," said the rag-and-bone man.
"Well, why don't they say so?" snapped she with the tweed cap and hat-pin.
"'Ave another go, missis," suggested the man with the little girl. "I'm losin' 'alf a day over this."