Denis glanced sharply at her. "What do you mean? You talk as if you will have to pay for it!"
"So I do, sir! Ten pounds—washing done out—pay your own breakages—no beer—no followers," she rattled off glibly.
"Do you mean Aunt Kezia makes you pay for everythin' you break?" interposed the Atom.
"Yes, miss!"
There was scorn in Denis's eye; he drew a half crown from his pocket.
"I broke it, Sarah," he said gently. "Would you mind getting the new one for me? You'd bargain better than I should. Come on, Atom, everyone's asking for you."
Sheila Pat held back.
"Is the goody-goo up there, too?"
"The what?"
"The little lame boy."