United States or Cambodia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But Chook had made up his mind, and after a short scuffle, he dragged Pinkey before the glass with the hat on her head. "That's back ter front, yer silly," she said, suddenly quiet. A minute later she was staring into the glass, silent and absorbed, forgetful of Mrs Partridge, Chook, and her father. The hat was a dream.
"W'ere the 'ell am I?" he muttered, like a man awaking from a dream. "What's this? You've been fighting," said the policeman. "Me? No fear," growled Chook. "I was walkin' along, quiet as a lamb, when a bloke come up an' landed me on the jaw." "Well, who was he?" asked the policeman. "I dunno. I never set eyes on 'im before," said Chook, lying without hesitation to their common enemy, the police.
"I never like to keep William waitin' for 'is tea." A cold wave swept over Chook. He had clean forgotten William, who would go home to Botany Street and find an empty house. Pinkey dived into the bedroom, and left Chook to face it out. "'Ere's yer key," he said helplessly, to make a beginning.
The two girls were convulsed, turning crimson with the effort to repress their giggles. Mrs Yabsley was annoyed, feeling that they were treating the matter as a farce. "I'm ashamed o' yer, Chook," she remarked severely. "Yer the two ends an' middle of a 'eathen. That's wot they call 'is surplus, an' I wish I 'ad the job of ironin' it."
"I'm frightened o' yer...'cause I like yer," said Pinkey, bursting into tears. Mrs Partridge was disappointed in Chook. He was too much taken up with that red-headed cat, and he ate nothing when he came to tea on Sunday, although she ransacked the ham-and-beef shop for dainties black pudding, ham-and-chicken sausage, and brawn set in a mould of appetizing jelly.
It was an agreeable and daily diversion for her to run up to the shop, and prophesy ruin and disaster to Chook and Pinkey for taking a shop that had beggared the last tenant, ignoring the fact that Jack Ryan had converted his profits into beer. Chook's rough tongue made her wince at times, but she refused to take offence for more than a day.
After tea, Pinkey set to work and washed up the dishes, while Mrs Partridge entertained the guest. Chook took out his cigarettes, and asked if Mr Partridge objected to smoke. There was no answer. "You must speak louder, Mr Fowles," said Mrs Partridge. "William's 'earing ain't wot it used to be." William resented this remark by twisting his chair farther away and emitting a grunt.
The last remark was true, for Stinky, in spite of his superior weight and height, was no match for Chook, the cock of Cardigan Street. It was the fifth round, and Chook was waiting for an opening to finish his man before the police came up, when a surprising thing happened.
Chook stared at the vegetable stalls with murder in his eyes, for here stood slant-eyed Mongolians behind heaps of potatoes, onions, cabbages, beans, and cauliflowers, crying the prices in broken English, or chattering with their neighbours in barbaric, guttural sounds.
His dogs, surprised that they had not long since been put to harness, crowded around him. His helplessness appealed to the brutes. They felt that something was wrong, though they knew not what, and they crowded about, howling their mournful sympathy. "Chook!
Word Of The Day