“’Ow I lives? Course I lives on wittles; and when I can’t get wittles I lives on nothink.”
“Mr Vernon means, what do you do to earn money?” explained the constable.
“Oh! I translates.”
“You translate!” said Mr Vernon, raising his eye brows in wonder that anything literary should find its way to Flo’s hands; “I did not know that you could read.”
“No, more I can—I knows nothink ’bout ‘read and pray.’ I never was glad to see that ’ere day. No—I translates; and ef they is down at the ’eel, and bust at the sides, and hout at the toes, wy I makes ’em as good as new fur hall that.”
“She cobbles old boots and shoes, your Worship,” explained the amused constable. “They call it translating down in Duncan Street.”
“Oh! Does your brother translate also, Darrell?”
“No, yer Washup; Dick ’ave a broom and crossin’. ’Ee wor doin’ a tidy lot lately wid ’is broom and crossin’.”
“Now remember you are on your oath. How did you spend your time on the Derby Day?”
“I sold small dolls to the gents.”