"Oh! you little monster!" exclaimed a woman, "you have put out
my babby's eye."
There was a murmur; almost a groan. "Whose baby's hurt?"
asked Master Joseph in a softened tone.
"Mine, sir," said an indignant voice; "Mary Church."
"Oh! Mary Church, is it!" said the malicious imp, "then I'll
put Mary Church down for half a pound of best arrow-root;
that's the finest thing in the world for babbies, and will
cure you of bringing your cussed monkeys here, as if you all
thought our shop was a hinfant school.
"Where's your book, Susan Travers! Left at home! Then you
may go and fetch it. No books, no tommy. You are Jones's
wife, are you? Ticket for three and sixpence out of eighteen
shillings wages. Is this the only ticket you have brought?
There's your money; and you may tell your husband he need not
take his coat off again to go down our shaft. He must think
us cussed fools! Tell him I hope he has got plenty of money
to travel into Wales, for he won't have no work in England
again, or my name ayn't Diggs. Who's pushing there? I'll be
among you; I'll close the shop. If I do get hold of some of
you cussed women, you shan't forget it. If anybody will tell
me who is pushing there, they shall have their bacon for
seven-pence.
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