''Tain't a bit of good your witing', 'cause I shan't come.'
'Well, then, look 'ere, Liza; next Saturday night's the last night, an' I shall go to the theatre, any'ow. An' if you'll come, you just come to the door at 'alf-past six, an' you'll find me there. See?'
'Na, I don't,' said Liza, firmly.
'Well, I shall expect yer.'
'I shan't come, so you needn't expect.' And with that she walked into the house and slammed the door behind her.
Her mother had not come in from her day's charing, and Liza set about getting her tea. She thought it would be rather lonely eating it alone, so pouring out a cup of tea and putting a little condensed milk into it, she cut a huge piece of bread-and-butter, and sat herself down outside on the doorstep. Another woman came downstairs, and seeing Liza, sat down by her side and began to talk.
'Why, Mrs. Stanley, wot 'ave yer done to your 'ead?' asked Liza, noticing a bandage round her forehead.
'I 'ad an accident last night,' answered the woman, blushing uneasily.
'Oh, I am sorry! Wot did yer do to yerself?'
'I fell against the coal-scuttle and cut my 'ead open.'