"
"These'll burn better than the coal you buy," said the unmoved customer.
"Well, we don't want them," retorted Miss Kybird, raising her voice, "and
I don't want any of your impudence. Get up out of our chair."
Her heightened tones penetrated to the small and untidy room behind the
shop. The door opened, and Mr. Kybird in his shirt-sleeves appeared at
the opening.
"Wot's the row?" he demanded, his little black eyes glancing from one to
the other.
"Only a lovers' quarrel," replied Jack. "You go away; we don't want
you."
"Look 'ere, we don't want none o' your nonsense," said the shopkeeper,
sharply; "and, wot's more, we won't 'ave it. Who put that rubbish on my
counter?"
He bustled forward, and taking the articles in his hands examined them
closely.
"Three shillings for the lot--cash," he remarked. "Done," said the
other.
"Did I say three?" inquired Mr. Kybird, startled at this ready
acceptance.
"Five you said," replied Mr. Nugent, "but I'll take three, if you throw
in a smile."
Mr. Kybird, much against his inclinations, threw in a faint grin, and
opening a drawer produced three shillings and flung them separately on
the counter. Miss Kybird thawed somewhat, and glancing from the
customer's clothes to his face saw that he had a pleasant eye and a good
moustache, together with a general air of recklessness much appreciated
by the sex.
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