Get up out of our chair." Her heightened tones penetrated to the small and untidy room behind the shop.

The door opened, and Mr.Kybird in his shirt-sleeves appeared at the opening.
"Wot's the row ?" he demanded, his little black eyes glancing from one to the other.
"Only a lovers' quarrel," replied Jack.

"You go away; we don't want you." "Look 'ere, we don't want none o' your nonsense," said the shopkeeper, sharply; "and, wot's more, we won't 'ave it.

Who put that rubbish on my counter ?" He bustled forward, and taking the articles in his hands examined them closely.
"Three shillings for the lot--cash," he remarked.

"Done," said the other.
"Did I say three ?" inquired Mr.Kybird, startled at this ready acceptance.
"Five you said," replied Mr.Nugent, "but I'll take three, if you throw in a smile." Mr.Kybird, much against his inclinations, threw in a faint grin, and opening a drawer produced three shillings and flung them separately on the counter.