"My word,yes!A bloke once came after Lil,an''e run 'im out so quick 'e forgot 'is 'at,an'waited at the corner till I brought it.""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.""Ye're only kiddin',"said Chook,cheerfully;"an'wot'll 'e do ter yous?""Me!'E niver rouses on me.W'en 'e gits shirty,I just laugh,an''e can't keep it up."
"Right-oh!"said Chook."Look out fer a song an'dance nex'Sunday."About five o'clock on the following Sunday afternoon,Chook,beautifully attired in the larrikin fashion,sauntered up to the door and tried the knocker.It was too stiff to move,and he used his knuckles.Then he heard footsteps and a rapid whispering,and Pinkey,white with anxiety,opened the door.Mrs Partridge,half dressed,slipped into the bedroom and called out in a loud voice:
"Good afternoon,Mr Fowles!'Ave yer come to take Elizabeth for a walk?"Ignoring Pinkey's whispered advice,he pushed in and looked round.He was in the parlour,and a large china dog welcomed him with a fixed grin.
"W'ere's the old bloke?"muttered Chook.
Pinkey pointed to the dining-room,and Chook walked briskly in.He found Partridge in his arm-chair,scowling at him over the newspaper.
"Might I ask 'oo you are?"he growled.
"Me name's Fowles--Arthur Fowles,"replied Chook,picking a seat near the door and smoothing a crease in his hat.
"Ah!that's all I wanted to know,"growled Partridge."Now yer can go.""Me?No fear!"cried Chook,affecting surprise."Yer missis gave me an invite ter tea,an''ere I am.Besides,I ain't such a stranger as Ilook;I 'elped move yer furniture in."
"An'yer shove yer way into my 'ouse on the strength of wot a pack o'silly women said ter yer?"
"I did,"admitted Chook.
"Now you take my advice,an'git out before I break every bone in yer body."Chook stared at him with an unnatural stolidity for fear he should spoil everything by grinning.
"Well,wot are yer starin'at?"inquired Partridge,with irritation.
"I was wonderin''ow yer'd look on the end of a rope,"replied Chook,quietly.
"Me on the end of a rope?"cried Partridge in amazement.
"Yes.They said yous 'ud stiffen me if I cum in,an''ere I am.""An'yet you 'ad the cheek?"
"Yes,"said Chook;"I niver take no notice o'wot women say."Partridge glared at him as if meditating a spring,and then,with a rapid jerk,turned his back on Chook and buried his nose in the newspaper.
Pinkey and her stepmother,who were listening to this dialogue at the door,ready for flight at the first sound of breaking glass or splintered wood,now ventured to step into the room.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.She had bought a pig's cheek,some German sausage,and a dozen scones at seven for threepence.
This was flanked by bread-and-butter,and a newly opened tin of jam with the jagged lid of the tin standing upright.She thought,with pride,that the young man would see he was in a house where no expense was spared.She requested Chook to sit next to Pinkey,and talked with feverish haste.
"Which do yer like,Mr Fowles?Lean or fat?The fat sometimes melts in yer mouth.Give 'im that bit yer cut for me,William.""If 'e don't like it,'e can leave it,"growled Partridge.
"Now,that'll do,William.I always said yer bark was worse than yer bite.You'll be all right w'en yer've 'ad yer beer.'E's got the temper of an angel w'en 'e's 'ad 'is beer,"she explained to Chook,as if her husband were out of hearing.
Partridge sat with his eyes fixed on his plate with the face of a sulky schoolboy.His long features reminded Chook of a horse he had once driven.When he had finished eating,he pulled his chair back and buried his silly,obstinate face in the newspaper.He had evidently determined to ignore Chook's existence.Mrs Partridge broke the silence by describing his character to the visitor as if he were a naughty child.
"William always sulks w'en 'e can't get 'is own way.Not another word will we 'ear from 'im tonight.'E knows 'e ought to be civil to people as eat at 'is own table,an'that only makes 'im worse.But for all 'is sulks,'e's got the temper of an angel w'en 'e's 'ad 'is beer.I've met all sorts--them as smashes the furniture for spite,an'them as bashes their wives 'cause it's cheaper,but gimme William every time."Partridge took no notice,except to bury his nose deeper in the paper.
He had reached the advertisements,and a careful study of these would carry him safely to bed.After tea,Pinkey set to work and washed up the dishes,while Mrs Partridge entertained the guest.Chook took out his cigarettes,and asked if Mr Partridge objected to smoke.There was no answer.
"You must speak louder,Mr Fowles,"said Mrs Partridge."William's 'earing ain't wot it used to be."William resented this remark by twisting his chair farther away and emitting a grunt.
Pinkey,conscious of Chook's eyes,was bustling in and out with the airs of a busy housewife,her arms,thin as a broomstick,bared to the elbow.
