"Ho, 'ere you are, are you?" he ses, looking at 'im very black.
"Wot's the matter?" ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp.

"I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my lad," ses
Jack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up into awful
scowls. "Which is Emma Cook?"

"Miss Cook is my name," ses Emma, very sharp. "Wot d'ye want?"

"Very good," ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; "then p'r'aps
you'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin afore this
young lady."

"It's the truth," ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate.

"If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, I shall
do something desprit," ses Mrs. Cook, getting up.

"This 'ere--er--man," ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, "owes me
seventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a party
he's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, and he
can't get it."

"So she has," ses Charlie, without looking up.

"Wot does 'e owe you the money for?" ses Mrs. Cook.

"'Cos I lent it to 'im," ses Jack.

"Lent it? What for?" ses Mrs. Cook.