"Well, we cant all win."

"Wot d'ye mean?" ses Ginger, very disagreeable.

"She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't wonder at
it. I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal."

"You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im.

"That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy," ses Sam, thinking 'ow he 'ad
put 'is arm round the widow's waist; "and I thank you kindly for the
teapot, Ginger.

"You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?" ses Ginger,
looking at Peter Russet.

"Not quite; but I'm going to," ses Sam, "and I'll bet you even arf-crowns
she ses 'yes.'"

Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when he raised
it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there boasting and
talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel ill.

"I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees," ses Ginger,
holding up his 'ead.

"Nor me," ses Peter. "You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think of the
evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel----"

"That'll do," ses old Sam, very sharp; "that ain't the way to speak of a