Suddenly he pushed a handful of silver into the Chinaman's hand and began to fill his bag with the cauliflowers.

With a look of suspicion the seller counted the money in his hand; there were only eight shillings.
"'Ere, me no take you money," cried he, frantic with rage, trying to push the silver into Chook's hand.

And then Chook overwhelmed him with a torrent of words, swearing that he had taken the money and made a sale.

The Chinaman hesitated and was lost.
"All li, you no pickum," he said, sullenly.
"No fear!" said Chook, grabbing the largest he could see.
In the next arcade he bought a dozen of rhubarb, Chin Lung watching him suspiciously as he counted them into the bag.
"You gottum more'n a dozen," he cried.
"What a lie!" cried Chook, with a stare of outraged virtue.
"I'll push yer face in if yer say I pinched yer rotten stuff," and he emptied the rhubarb out of the bag, dexterously kicking the thirteenth bunch under the stall.
"Now are yez satisfied ?" he cried, and began counting the bunches into the bag two by two.

As the Chinaman watched sharply, he stooped to move a cabbage that he was standing on, and instantly Chook whipped in two bunches without counting.
"Twelve," said Chook, with a look of indignation.