Catherine raised herself sideways on her elbow, the better to pursue the argument.
“Did the milkman leave a pint as usual?”
“Yes, mum.”
“And this is all that’s left of it?”
“Yes, mum.”
“Then you must have used far too much with your porridge.... Well, since there isn’t enough, you’d better go to a shop and get another pint.”
Florrie fidgeted uneasily with her feet. She was not used to her mistress in such a firm mood.
“It’s a long way, mum.... There’s no plice nearer than Brigson’s, daown the ’Igh Road. All daown the ’ill an’ up agin, mum.”
“Never mind. Go to Brigson’s.”
“Naow, mum?”