The crowd still loitered. They had even yet hopes of a breach of the peace.
The big man was reluctant to go without a final effort to rehabilitate himself. Once more he drew the paper from his pocket and approached the policeman.
"Wot she put that in for?" he demanded, indicating the advertisement.
Ignoring the remark, the policeman drew his notebook once more from his pocket.
"I shall want your name and address," he said with an official air.
"Wotjer want it for?"
"Now, then, come along," said the policeman, and the big man gave his name and address.
"Wot she do it for?" he repeated, "an' wot's going to 'appen to 'er for 'ittin' me in the stummick?"
"You'd better get along," said the policeman.
With a grumble in his throat, the big man placed himself between the shafts of the barrow and, having blasted Charley into action, moved off.