"Nip out quick," I ses, in a whisper.
"I'm in no hurry," ses the skipper. "Here! Halloa, wot's up?"
It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through was that woman, shoved behind by the potman. Arter 'im came a car-man, two big 'ulking brewers' draymen, a little scrap of a woman with 'er bonnet cocked over one eye, and a couple of dirty little boys.
"Wot is it?" ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind 'em. "A beanfeast?"
"This lady wants her 'usband," ses the pot-man, pointing at me. "He run away from her nine years ago, and now he says he 'as never seen 'er before. He ought to be 'ung."
"Bill," ses the skipper, shaking his silly 'ead at me. "I can 'ardly believe it."
"It's all a pack o' silly lies," I ses, firing up. "She's made a mistake."
"She made a mistake when she married you," ses the thin little woman. "If I was in 'er shoes I'd take 'old of you and tear you limb from limb."
"I don't want to hurt 'im, ma'am," ses the other woman. "I on'y want him to come 'ome to me and my five. Why, he's never seen the youngest, little Annie. She's as like 'im as two peas."
"Pore little devil," ses the carman.