turned to the door with the child in his arms, ashamed and defiant, like
a boy caught with the jam-pot. He expected Mrs Yabsley or Ada; it was
Chook, breathless with haste. He stood in the doorway, dumb with
amazement as his eye took in this strange picture; then his face relaxed
in a grin.

"Well, Gawd strike me any colour 'E likes, pink for preference," he cried,
and shook with laughter.

Jonah stared at him with a deepening scowl, till chuckles died away.

"Garn!" he cried at last, and his voice was between a whine and a snarl;
"yer needn't poke borak!"




CHAPTER 5



THE PUSH DEALS IT OUT


It was near eleven, and the lights were dying out along the Road as the
shopmen, fatigued by their weekly conflict with the people, fastened the
shutters. At intervals trams and buses, choked with passengers from the
city, laboured heavily past. Groups of men still loitered on the
footpaths, careless of the late hour, for to-morrow was Sunday, the day of
idleness, when they could lie a-bed and read the paper. And they gossiped