THE KIDS' MAN
"I'll learn yeh, y' little wretch!"
"Oowh! Don't—don't!"
The lady, savagely wielding a decayed carpet-beater, bent over the shrinking form of the child—a little storm of short skirts and black hair. Her arm ached and her face steamed, but she continued to shower blows wherever she could get them in, until suddenly the storm limply subsided into a small figure which doubled up and fell.
A step sounded in the doorway, and the lady looked up, frayed at the edges and panting. A small, slight man, in semi-official dress, stood just inside the room, which gave directly on to a byway of Homerton.
"Na then, Feet—mind yer dirty boots on my carpet, cancher? What's the——"
"N.S.P.C.C.," replied Feet. He stooped over the child, lifted her, and set her on a slippery sofa. "Had my eye on you for some time. Thought there were something dicky with this child."
"'Ere, look 'ere—I mean, can't 'er muvver 'it 'er——"