“Not me,” ses Charlie, hanging back. “Why, I wouldn't take it at a gift.”
He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn't budge. He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a look about it he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a funeral procession, and Emma 'ad to keep saying “H's!” in w'ispers to 'er mother all the way.
“I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure,” ses Mrs. Cook, taking off 'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on the chair he was just going to set down on.
“It's so awk'ard,” ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. “Fact is, Charlie, we pretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it.”
“It's as good as settled,” ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over with temper.
“They won't settle till they get the money,” ses Charlie. “You may make your mind easy about that.”
“Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready,” ses old Cook, eager like.
Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. “I'd better take care of it,” he ses, in a trembling voice. “You might be robbed.”
“So might you be,” ses Mrs. Cook. “Don't you worry; it's in a safe place.”