One eye at a time she dabbed, while she looked at me
reproachful with the other. And arter eight dabs, four to each eye, she
began to sob as if her 'art would break.
"Go away," I ses, very slow. "You can't stand making that noise outside
my wharf. Go away and give somebody else a treat."
Afore she could say anything the potman from the Tiger, a nasty ginger-
'aired little chap that nobody liked, come by and stopped to pat her on
the back.
"There, there, don't take on, mother," he ses. "Wot's he been a-doing to
you?"
"You get off 'ome," I ses, losing my temper.
"Wot d'ye mean trying to drag me into it? I've never seen the woman
afore in my life."
"Oh, Bill!" ses the woman, sobbing louder than ever. "Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"'Ow does she know your name, then?" ses the little beast of a potman.
I didn't answer him. I might have told 'im that there's about five
million Bills in England, but I didn't. I stood there with my arms
folded acrost my chest, and looked at him, superior.
"Where 'ave you been all this long, long time?" she ses, between her
sobs. "Why did you leave your happy 'ome and your children wot loved
you?"
The potman let off a whistle that you could have 'eard acrost the river,
and as for me, I thought I should ha' dropped. To have a woman standing
sobbing and taking my character away like that was a'most more than I
could bear.
"Did he run away from you?" ses the potman.
"Ye-ye-yes," she ses.
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