“Let me argue ’im, Mr. Catt.”
“Argue, you ’ain’t got a leg to stand on!”
“Haven’t I, my boy!” and the two disputants began to glare.
The drayman wiped his hands on the back of his breeches.
“Some fool’ll be callin’ me a liar soon,” he remarked.
“It’s on the cards.”
“Look ’ere, Bill Bains, I’ve ’ad enough of your sarce. Stow it.”
“You go and bully your kids. Can’t I speak my mind when I bloomin’ well like?”
“Course ’e can,” said the lady in the red blouse; “and ’e speaks it well, ’e does. Murchison was always a right down gentleman; better than that there little nipper, Steel.”
“Right for you, Mrs. Penny. We don’t go blackguardin’ other people’s characters, do we?”