"Oh, no, it wasn't quarrellin', 'm—just bargin', you know. Any'ow it ended in Polly an' Mary an' my brother goin' off early. I was chilly to Mrs. Spurge owin' to 'er 'avin' said that she didn't believe my sailor-brother 'd ever been further than Wapping in a coal-barge. I shouldn't 'ave spoke to 'er again that evenin' if the book 'adn't brought us together again friendly, like."
"What book?" I asked, bewildered.
"One of yours that I got out of the study, 'm. Oh, wot a book! Sorter ghost story in a manner o' speakin'. I laughed an' I cried over it, turn about. So did Mrs. Spurge. You see we read bits out to each other—kep it up till three o'clock in the mornin', we did. It was luverly!"
"And what was the book called?" I inquired.
"It's called A Christmas Car'l, 'm, by Mr. Dickings. Why didn't nobody tell me about it afore? It's far better 'n the pictures. 'Just like 'eaven,' Mrs. Spurge said."
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Elizabeth."
"It's the 'appiest Christmas I ever 'ad, 'm. That there Mr. Dickings is a one! 'E do know wot's wot in festlebords."
Patient. "My missis sent me fur a bottle o' medicine fur me corf. She says it keeps her awake o' nights. I says, 'You've nobbut to lie awake. I've got to lie awake an' corf.'"