"Truth is truth," ses Ginger. "I'm a plain man, and I speak my mind."

"Blue is my fav'rit' colour," ses old Sam, in a tender voice. "True
blue."

Peter Russet began to feel out of it. "I thought brown was," he ses.

"Ho!" ses Sam, turning on 'im; "and why?"

"I 'ad my reasons," ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth very firm.

"I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too," ses Ginger. "I don't know
why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't tell you."

"Brown's a very nice colour," ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was the
matter with old Sam.

"Blue," ses Ginger; "big blue eyes--they're the ones for me. Other
people may 'ave their blacks and their browns," he ses, looking at Sam
and Peter Russet, "but give me blue."

They went on like that all the evening, and every time the shop-bell went
and the widow 'ad to go out to serve a customer they said in w'ispers wot
they thought of each other; and once when she came back rather sudden
Ginger 'ad to explain to 'er that 'e was showing Peter Russet a scratch
on his knuckle.

Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took 'er a little chiney
teapot he 'ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right acrost