She bought slices
of pork and beef, and of suet-pudding
with a few currants sprinkled
through it.
"Will yer 'elp me to carry it?"
she inquired. "I 'll 'ave to get a
few pen'worth o' coal an' wood an'
a screw o' tea an' sugar. My wig,
wot a feed me an' Polly 'll 'ave!"
As they returned to the coffee-
stand she broke more than once into
a hop of glee. Barney had changed
his mind concerning her. A solid
sovereign which must be changed
and a companion whose shabby gentility
was absolute grandeur when
compared with his present surroundings
made a difference.
She received her mug of coffee and
thick slice of bread and dripping with
a grin, and swallowed the hot sweet
liquid down in ecstatic gulps.
"Ain't I in luck?" she said, handing
her mug back when it was empty.
"Gi' me another, Barney."
Antony Dart drank coffee also and
ate bread and dripping. The coffee
was hot and the bread and dripping,
dashed with salt, quite eatable. He
had needed food and felt the better
for it.
"Come on, mister," said Glad,
when their meal was ended. "I want
to get back to Polly, an' there 's coal
and bread and things to buy."
She hurried him along, breaking
her pace with hops at intervals. She
darted into dirty shops and brought
out things screwed up in paper. She
went last into a cellar and returned
carrying a small sack of coal over her
shoulders.
"Bought sack an' all," she said
elatedly. "A sack 's a good thing
to 'ave.
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