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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Them wretches is givin' Froggy beans," said Mrs Swadling. "Lucky fer 'im it's daylight, or they'd tickle 'is ribs with their boots," said Mrs Jones. "Jonah and Chook's at the bottom o' that," said Mrs Swadling, looking hard at Mrs Yabsley. "Ah, the devil an' 'is 'oof!" said Mrs Yabsley grimly, and was silent.
They thought they deceived the old woman, and the tea and groceries had a finer flavour in consequence; but they would have been surprised to know that Mrs Yabsley had herself fixed her allowance from Jonah at two pounds a week and her rent.
It was past ten o'clock, and one by one, with a sudden, swift collapse, each shop in Botany Road extinguished its lights, leaving a blank gap in the shining row of glass windows. Mrs Yabsley turned into Cardigan Street and, taking a firmer grip of her parcels, mounted the hill slowly on account of her breath.
"Niver a word about it 'ave I breathed to a livin' soul till this day," wailed Mrs Yabsley, mopping her eyes with her apron. "Rye buck!" said Jonah. "'Ere goes! I'll find it, if the blimey house falls down. Gimme that axe." The floor-boards cracked and split as he ripped them up. Small beetles and insects, surprised by the light, scrambled with desperate haste into safety.
Pinkey, amazed by Chook's impudence and annoyed that her lover should cut so poor a figure, encouraged him, with the feminine delight in playing with fire. Then Chook, with an insolent grin at Stinky, announced that he was going to see Pinkey home. Mrs Yabsley just parted them in time. Chook went swearing up to the corner on the chance of getting a final taste at the "Woolpack."
Her lodger lay in bed till ten in the morning, and expected to be waited on hand and foot. And when Mrs Yabsley could spare a minute, she described in detail the splendours of her father's home.
Ada looked in silence, astonished and slightly scornful at this development, jealous of the child's preference, already regretting her neglect. Mrs Yabsley stood petrified with the face of one who has seen a miracle. For a moment she was too amazed to think; then, with a rapid change of front, she conquered her surprise and claimed the credit for this result.
By twelve the street is dead, and the tread of the policeman echoes with a forlorn sound as if he were walking through a cemetery. As Mrs Yabsley leaned over the gate, Mrs Swadling caught sight of her, and, throwing her apron over her head, crossed the street, bent on gossip. Then Mrs Jones, who had been watching her through the window, dropped her mending and hurried out.
"The 'ouse ain't a-fire, an' ye're talkin' in yer sleep." "Wot!" cried Mrs Yabsley, furiously, "yer wake me up out o' me sleep to tell me the 'ouse ain't a-fire. I'll land yer on the 'ead wi' me slipper, if yer don't go to bed." "I say, Mum," entreated Jonah, "will yer gimme five quid on Monday, an ask no questions?" Mrs Yabsley's only answer was a snore.
His manner changed to Ada and her mother; he was considerate, even kind. Then he began to drop in on Monday or Tuesday instead of loafing with the Push at the corner. Ada was at the factory; but Mrs Yabsley, sorting piles of dirty linen, with her arms bared to the elbow, welcomed him with a smile. He remarked with satisfaction that a change had come over the old woman.
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