Blakeston had with him.

'This is my missus!' said Jim, pointing to her with his thumb.

'You ain't been dahn in the street much, 'ave yer?' said Liza, by way
of making the acquaintance.

'Na,' answered Mrs. Blakeston, 'my youngster's been dahn with the
measles, an' I've 'ad my work cut out lookin' after 'im.'

'Oh, an' is 'e all right now?'

'Yus, 'e's gettin' on fine, an' Jim wanted ter go ter Chingford
ter-day, an' 'e says ter me, well, 'e says, "You come along ter
Chingford, too; it'll do you good." An' 'e says, "You can leave
Polly"--she's my eldest, yer know--"you can leave Polly," says 'e,
"ter look after the kids." So I says, "Well, I don't mind if I do,"
says I.'

Meanwhile Liza was looking at her. First she noticed her dress: she
wore a black cloak and a funny, old-fashioned black bonnet; then
examining the woman herself, she saw a middle-sized, stout person
anywhere between thirty and forty years old. She had a large, fat face
with a big mouth, and her hair was curiously done, parted in the
middle and plastered down on each side of the head in little plaits.
One could see that she was a woman of great strength, notwithstanding
evident traces of hard work and much child-bearing.

Liza knew all the other passengers, and now that everyone was settled
down and had got over the excitement of departure, they had time to