"How's Carrots—Carrots senior—young Radishes' dad?"
"Oh—him? He's all right. He ain't the sort to take to bein' doctored. He's getting about again."
"I thought a bit of wall came down on him."
"Came down bodily, he says. But it don't foller that it did, because he says so. Anyhow, he got a hard corner of his nut against it. He ain't delicate. He says he'll have it out of the landlord—action for damages—wilful neglect—'sorlt and battery—that kind o' thing!"
"Won't Mrs. Burr?"
"Couldn't say—don't know if a woman counts. But it don't matter. Sister Nora, she'll see to her. Goes to see her every day. She or the other one. I say, Jerry!..."
"What say, old Mo?"
"You haven't seen the other one."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" Mr. Jerry spoke perceptively, appreciatively. For Uncle Mo, by partly closing one eye, and slightly varying the expression of his lips, had contrived somehow to convey the idea that he was speaking of dazzling beauty, not by any means unadorned.
"I tell you this, Jerry, and you can believe me or not, as you like. If I was a young feller, I'd hang about Hy' Park all day long only to get a squint at her. My word!—there's nothing to come anigh her—ever I saw! And there she was, a-kissing our little Dolly, like e'er a one of us!"