The young voice and the old one said the lines over and over in a monotonous sing-song until Tommy knew them off by heart.
Movements overhead showed that John was getting up. Although it was nearly half-past nine he had not yet left the bedroom. When he came downstairs he looked sulky and unwashed and ate his breakfast in sullen silence.
“Fish to sell?” he muttered.
Old John pointed to his early morning catch.
As well as being sly and lazy John was also a bit soft, and never acted on his own responsibility.
“How much be I to get for they?” he asked.
It was only a small catch and Old John lifted the fish from the basket to estimate their value.
“Should fetch tenpence,” he decided, “but make what ee can. If ee can’t get tenpence, take eightpence; an’ if ’ee can’t get eightpence, take sixpence; but make what ee can. Should fetch tenpence, though,” he said again as he replaced the fish and passed the basket to his son.
John always followed the line of least resistance. Half-way to the quay he met a man who handled his fish with a view to buying.
“What do you want for they?” he was asked.