"You've got another kid coming next week, my beauty, so you'd better not talk of crowding out till then." "What! another besides this young cad?
Oh, that's too much! We won't stand it.

That's all about that," cried Mr Horncastle, in tones of utter disgust.
"Won't you?
Then you can cook your own sausages for supper, my man, and shell out what you owe on the nail.

We'll see who won't stand it or not!" This threat had the desired effect: Horncastle knuckled down as if by magic.
"Oh, don't be a brute, Mrs Nash," he said, in tones of agitation.

"Do us those sausages, there's a good body, and you can cram in half a dozen kids if you like." And so the question of my admission was settled satisfactorily, if not flatteringly, for me, and the fellows, the novelty of my appearance being once over, took no more notice of me than of any of the rest of their fellow-lodgers.
Mrs Nash's establishment appeared to be one to which fond parents in the country, whose darlings were about to launch out on the sea of life in London, were invited to confide their sons, under the promise of a comfortable, respectable, and economical home.
As to the comfortable, we who were best able to judge did not admit the description a true one.

As to the respectable, that was a matter of opinion.