"Old scores you may call them, but worth a dozen of them that put them
to their rest, poor dears."

"Elfrid!"--with a note of remonstrance.

"If you choke yourself, my lord, not another mouthful do you '_ave_.
No nice puddin'! Nothing!"

"And kept us in, she did, every afternoon for a week!"

It seemed to be the end, and Mr. Polly replied with an air of being
profoundly impressed: "Really!"

"Elfrid!"--a little disheartened.

"And then they 'ad it! They found he'd swallowed the very key to
unlock the drawer--"

"Then don't let people go casting snacks!"

"_Who's_ casting snacks!"

"Elfrid! This lady wants to _know_, '_ave_ the Prossers left
Canterbury?"

"No wish to make myself disagreeable, not to God's 'umblest worm--"

"Alf, you aren't very busy with that brawn up there!"

And so on for the hour.