"Let's 'ope 'e's come back more sensible than wot 'e was when 'e went
away," ses old Burge, with 'is mouth full o' toast.

By the time he'd been back a couple o' days George Dixon could see that
'is going away 'adn't done any good at all. Nobody seemed to take any
notice of 'im or wot he said, and at last, arter a word or two with
Charlie about the rough way he spoke to some o' the customers, Charlie
came in to Mrs. Dixon and said that he was at 'is old tricks of
interfering, and he would not 'ave it.

"Well, he'd better keep out o' the bar altogether," ses Mrs. Dixon.
"There's no need for 'im to go there; we managed all right while 'e was
away."

"Do you mean I'm not to go into my own bar?" ses Dixon, stammering.

"Yes, I do," ses Mrs. Dixon. "You kept out of it for four years to
please yourself, and now you can keep out of it to please me."

"I've put you out o' the bar before," ses Charlie, "and if you come
messing about with me any more I'll do it agin. So now you know."

He walked back into the bar whistling, and George Dixon, arter sitting
still for a long time thinking, got up and went into the bar, and he'd
'ardly got his foot inside afore Charlie caught 'old of 'im by the
shoulder and shoved 'im back into the parlour agin.

"I told you wot it would be," ses Mrs. Dixon, looking up from 'er sewing.
"You've only got your interfering ways to thank for it."