s cheek.

Still roaring, he hopped on his crutch with incredible speed towards
the Push, who stood their ground for a minute and then, with the
instinct of the cur, bolted. The sailor stopped, and shook his fist at
their retreating forms, showering strange, foreign maledictions on the
fleeing enemy. It was evident that he could swear better than he could
sing.

"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.

The sailor disappeared round the corner, and five minutes later the
Push had slipped back, one by one, to their places under the veranda.
Mrs Jones was in the middle of a story:

"'Er breath was that strong, it nearly knocked me down, an' so I sez to
'er, 'Mark my words, I'll pocket yer insults no longer, an' you in a
temperance lodge. I'll make it my bizness to go to the sekertary this
very day, an' tell 'im of yer goin's on.' An' she sez...w'y, there she
is again," cried Mrs Jones, as she caught the sound of a shrill voice,
high-pitched and quarrelsome. The women craned their necks to look.

A woman of about forty, drunken, bedraggled, dressed in dingy black,
was pacing up and down the pavement in front of the barber's. She
blinked like a drunken owl, and stepped high on the level footpath as
if it were mountainous. And without looking at anything, she threw a
string of insults at the barber, hiding behind the partition in his
shop. For seven years she had passed as his wife, and then, one day,
sick of her drunken bouts, he had turned her out, and married Flash
Kate, the ragpicker's daughter. Sloppy Mary had accepted her lot with
resignation, and went out charring for a living; but whenever she had a
drop too much she made for the barber's, forgetting by a curious lapse
of memory that it was no longer her home. And as usual the barber's
new wife had pushed her into the street, staggering, and now stood on
guard at the door, her coarse, handsome features alive with contempt.

"Wotcher doin' in my 'ouse?" suddenly inquired Sloppy, blinking with
suspicion at Flash Kate. "Yous go 'ome, me fine lady, afore yer git
yerself talked about."

The woman at the door laughed loudly, and pretended to examine with
keen interest a new wedding r