"How do I know it ain't pison?" he ses. "You're a friend o' Joe Clark's, and for all I know he may ha' paid you to pison it."
"I wouldn't do such a thing," ses Bill. "You ought to know me better than that."
"All right," ses George Barstow; "you eat it then, and I'll give you two shillings in stead o' one. You can easy mix some more."
"Not me," ses Bill Chambers, making a face.
"Well, three shillings, then," ses George Barstow, getting more and more suspicious like; "four shillings—five shillings."
Bill Chambers shook his 'ead, and George Barstow, more and more certain that he 'ad caught 'im trying to kill 'is cat and that 'e wouldn't eat the stuff, rose 'im up to ten shillings.
Bill looked at the butter and then 'e looked at the ten shillings on the table, and at last he shut 'is eyes and gulped it down and put the money in 'is pocket.
"You see, I 'ave to be careful, Bill," ses George Barstow, rather upset.
Bill Chambers didn't answer 'im. He sat there as white as a sheet, and making such extraordinary faces that George was arf afraid of 'im.
"Anything wrong, Bill?" he ses at last.