'I don't feel too chirpy neither,' said Liza, sympathetically.

'I wish I 'adn't drunk so much beer,' added Sally, as a pang shot
through her head.

'Oh, you'll be arright in a bit,' said Liza. Just then they heard the
clock strike eight, and they began to run so that they might not miss
getting their tokens and thereby their day's pay; they turned into the
street at the end of which was the factory, and saw half a hundred
women running like themselves to get in before it was too late.

All the morning Liza worked in a dead-and-alive sort of fashion, her
head like a piece of lead with electric shocks going through it when
she moved, and her tongue and mouth hot and dry. At last lunch-time
came.

'Come on, Sal,' said Liza, 'I'm goin' to 'ave a glass o' bitter. I
can't stand this no longer.'

So they entered the public-house opposite, and in one draught finished
their pots. Liza gave a long sigh of relief.

'That bucks you up, don't it?'

'I was dry! I ain't told yer yet, Liza, 'ave I? 'E got it aht last
night.'

'Who d'yer mean?'

'Why, 'Arry. 'E spit it aht at last.'