"Ugly swine! I'll smack yer jaw, if yer talk ter me," she cried.

"Blimey, 'ot stuff, ain't it?" inquired Chook.

"Cum on, Pinkey. Never mind 'im," cried Ada, moving off.

"Yah, go 'ome an' wash yer neck!" shouted Chook, with sudden venom.

The red-headed girl stood silent, searching her mind for a stinging retort.

"Yer'd catch yer death o' cold if yer washed yer own," she cried; and the
two passed out of sight, tittering. Chook turned to his mates.

"She kin give it lip, can't she?" said he, in admiration.

A moment later the leader of the Push crossed the street, and took
his place in silence under the veranda. A first glance surprised the eye,
for he was a hunchback, with the uncanny look of the deformed--the head,
large and powerful, wedged between the shoulders as if a giant's hand
had pressed it down, the hump projecting behind, monstrous and inhuman.
His face held you with a pair of restless grey eyes, the colour and temper
of steel, deep with malicious intelligence. His nose was large and thin,
curved like the beak of an eagle. Chook, whose acquaintance he had made
years ago when selling newspapers, was his mate. Both carried nicknames,
corrupted from Jones and Fowles, with the rude wit of the streets.

"Ada's lookin' fer yous, Jonah," said Chook.

"Yer don't say so?" replied the hunchback, raising his leg to strike
a match. "Was Pinkey with 'er?" he added.