.

.

"An' me thinkin' Bill 'ad gone north to Wolver'ampton!" she breathed.
Before the boy could ask her meaning they heard the rumble of wheels outside; and Tilda, catching him by the arm, hurried him back to the doors just as a two-horse wagon rolled down to the wharf, in charge of an elderly driver--a sour-visaged man in a smock-frock, with a weather-stained top hat on the back of his head, and in his hand a whip adorned with rings of polished brass.
He pulled up, eyed the two children, and demanded to know what they meant by trespassing in the store.
"We were admirin' the 'orse," answered Tilda.
"An' likewise truantin' from school," the wagoner suggested.

"But that's the way of it in England nowadays; the likes o' me payin' rates to eddicate the likes o' you.

An' that's your Conservative Government.