an' a pinch o' fire an' a roof over their 'eads—their Farver bein' a drunken brute, an' 'im expectin' to be fed an' all?' she says."
Bobball paused to knock the ashes gingerly from his clay, upon his horny palm. Contrary to what one might have expected, the children were now deeply interested. Bobball's earnestness and dramatic manner held them spell-bound as they endeavoured to visualise a new idea, the tragedy of starving children.
"‘They ain't any on 'em 'ad nothing more nor a cup o' weak tea since yestiddy,' says she, 'an' they won't neether, till I got these boxes finished an' took to the factr'y. Would yer run along wiv 'em yerself, while I tidies up?' she says. But the good lidy 'ad nobler work in 'and, o' course.
"Then come the day when Farver done the best night's work e' ever done in 'is life. 'E got 'ittin' Muvver when 'e was too drunk to look arter 'isself, an' she shoved 'im dahn-stairs proper, an' 'e broke 'is bloomin' neck. Wasn't we all just 'appy neether! An' to fair put the lid on it, Muvver got a fi'-pun-note out of it, some'ow.
