"
A woman answered, "You've struck me, you swine; and if I've got a black
eye I'll quod you, sure as I'm yere. Ain't I lushed you, and fed you,
and found your clobber long enough?"
"Garn, you farthin' face! Shet your neck."
"All very fine, Mister Blackey, but how would you like a smack in the
bloomin' eye? I done the best as I knew for you, and there ain't a bloke
round as has a judy wot'll go where I goes and hand over the wongur."
"Never mind, I was waxy when I done it. Maybe we'll 'ave some luck to
morrow'."
I was hidden all this time, and I kept very quiet until the pair moved
away. Over my last pipe I had many meditations, and formed my own
conclusions about Master Blackey.
There are, as I have said, thousands of fellows who have never done any
work, and never mean to do any; they are born in various grades of life;
the public-house is their temple; they live well and lie warm, and you
can see a fine set of them in the full flush of their hoggish jollity at
any suburban race meeting.
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