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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Yous are a white man, an' I always knew it. Yer niver 'ad no cause ter go crook on me, but I ain't complainin'," cried Chook hoarsely. The tears were running a zigzag course over the grey stubble of Partridge's cheeks. "Yer'll be satisfied if I think as much of 'er as yous did of her mother?" asked Chook, feeling a lump in his throat. Partridge nodded, swallowing as if he were choking.
Chook, secure of victory, criticized the weather, but Partridge remained silent as a graven image. Mrs Partridge set the table for tea with nervous haste. "Tea's ready, William," she cried at last. William took his place, and, without lifting his eyes, began to serve the meat. Mrs Partridge had made a special effort.
There was always a touch of comedy in Chook's buying, and the Chinamen knew and dreaded him, instantly on the defensive, guarding their precious cabbages against his predatory fingers, while Chook parted with his shillings as cheerfully as a lioness parts with her cubs. A pile of superb cauliflowers caught his eye. "'Ow muchee?" he inquired. "Ten shilling," replied the Chinaman.
Dunno Joe Parsons, as danced wid yer missis at the bricklayers' picnic?" The man stopped to think, trying to remember, but his brain refused the effort. "Orl right," he muttered; "come an' 'ave a drink." And he turned to the bar. "No fear," cried Chook, taking him affectionately by the arm, "no more fer me! I'm full up ter the chin, an' so are yous."
"W'ere is Joe?" asked the girl, suddenly serious. "Tell 'im I want ter see 'im." "Gone ter buy a smoke; 'e'll be back in a minit." "Right-oh, tell 'im wot I said," replied Ada, moving away. "'Ere, 'old 'ard, ain't yer goin' ter interdooce yer cobber?" cried Chook, staring at the red-headed girl.
She looked down the street, and saw Jonah and Chook, with a few others of the Push, sunning themselves in the morning air. Her face darkened. "I see the Push 'ave got Jimmy Sinclair at last. Only six months ago 'e went ter Sunday school reg'lar, an' butter wouldn't melt in 'is mouth. Well, if smokin' cigarettes, an' spittin', and swearin' was 'ard work, they'd all die rich men.
"That's all right," said Chook uneasily, "but this ain't time-payment furniture, an' I ain't goin' ter sling matches about like some people sling advice." "That's very true," said Mrs Partridge, warming up to her subject, "but there's no knowin' 'ow careless yer may git when yer stomach's undermined with bad cookin'." "Wot rot ye're talkin'!" cried Chook.
"Well, 'e won't bustle me," cried Chook. "But y'ain't goin'?" said Pinkey, anxiously. "My oath, I am!" cried Chook. "I'm doin' the square thing this time, don't yous fergit, an' no old finger's goin' ter bustle me, even if 'e's your father." "Yous stop at 'ome while yer lucky," said Pinkey. "Ever since Lil cleared out wi' Marsden, 'e swears 'e'll knife the first bloke that comes after me."
"Nothin' like a feed ter set a man up," said Chook, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. As he turned, he was surprised to see Stinky Collins and Pinkey in front of the electric battery. These machines had a singular attraction for the people. The mysterious fluid that ran silently and invisibly through the copper wires put them in touch with the mysteries of Nature.
Stinky, who was very touchy on the score of the vile smell of his trade, boiled over. "Never mind my trade," he shouted, "I'm as good a man as yous." "Garn, that's only a rumour! I wouldn't let it git about," sneered Chook. The smouldering hate of months burst suddenly into flame, and the two men rushed at each other. The others tried to separate them. "Don't be a fool."
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