"Lyin' drunk in a public-'ouse, I'll be bound," she said, viciously
pulling up a weed, "a-spendin' 'is, rent and a-spilin' 'is inside with
beer--ah, men is brutes, drat 'em!"

Just as she said this, a shadow fell across the garden, and on
looking up, she saw a man leaning over the fence, staring at her.

"Git out," she said, sharply, rising from her knees and shaking her
trowel at the intruder. "I don't want no apples to-day, an' I don't
care how cheap you sells 'em."

Mrs. Hableton evidently laboured under the delusion that the man was a
hawker, but seeing no hand-cart with him, she changed her mind.

"You're takin' a plan of the 'ouse to rob it, are you?" she said.
"Well, you needn't, 'cause there ain't nothin' to rob, the silver
spoons as belonged to my father's mother 'avin' gone down my 'usband's,
throat long ago, an' I ain't 'ad money to buy more. I'm a lone pusson
as is put on by brutes like you, an' I'll thank you to leave the fence
I bought with my own 'ard earned money alone, and git out."

Mrs. Hableton stopped short for want of breath, and stood shaking her
trowel, and gasping like a fish out of water.

"My dear lady," said the man at the fence, mildly, "are you--"

"No, I ain't," retorted Mrs. Hableton, fiercely, "I ain't neither a
member of the 'Ouse, nor a school teacher, to answer your questions.
I'm a woman as pays my rates an' taxes, and don't gossip nor read yer