his grievances.

"Gentlemen from the school they come in 'ere and says ain't it all a
joke and exciting and what not. But I says to them, you 'aven't got to
live in it, I says. That's what it is. You 'aven't got to live in it, I
says. Glad when it's all over, that's what I'll be."

"'Nother jug of hot water, please," said Linton.

The Sergeant shouted the order over his shoulder, as if he were
addressing a half-company on parade, and returned to his woes.

"You 'aven't got to live in it, I says. That's what it is. It's this
everlasting worry and flurry day in and day out, and not knowing what's
going to 'appen next, and one man coming in and saying 'Vote for
Bruce', and another 'Vote for Pedder', and another saying how it's the
poor man's loaf he's fighting for--if he'd only _buy_ a loaf,
now--'ullo, 'ullo, wot's this?"

There was a "confused noise without", as Shakespeare would put it, and
into the shop came clattering Barry and McTodd, of Seymour's, closely
followed by Stanning and Attell.

"This is getting a bit too thick," said Barry, collapsing into a chair.

From the outer shop came the voice of Sergeant Cook.

"Let me jest come to you, you red-'eaded--"

Roars of derision from the road.