“So un'ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening,” ses Peter.
Old Sam put his 'ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the bed shook; and every now and then he'd put his 'ead out and look at Peter and Ginger and laugh agin till he choked.
“I see 'ow it is,” he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the sheet. “Well, we cant all win.”
“Wot d'ye mean?” ses Ginger, very disagreeable.
“She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't wonder at it. I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal.”
“You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im.
“That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy,” ses Sam, thinking 'ow he 'ad put 'is arm round the widow's waist; “and I thank you kindly for the teapot, Ginger.
“You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses Ginger, looking at Peter Russet.
“Not quite; but I'm going to,” ses Sam, “and I'll bet you even arf-crowns she ses 'yes.'”
Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when he raised it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there boasting and talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel ill.