a novelette to read, and some lollies to suck, and she was satisfied.
Ray, who was growing too big for the box-cradle, was lying on a sugar-bag
in the shade.

"W'y, Joe, yer face is as long as a fiddle!" cried Mrs Yabsley,
cheerfully. "Wot's up? 'Ave yer got the sack?"

"No, but Dutchy's got nuthin' fer me till We'n'sday. I might 'ave known
that. An' anyhow, if I earned more than a quid, 'e'd break 'is 'eart."

"Well, a quid's no good to a man wi' a wife an' family," replied the old
woman. "Wot do yer reckon on doin'?"

She knew that her judgment of Jonah was being put to the test, and she
remarked his gloomy face with satisfaction.

"I'm goin' ter chuck Dutchy, if I can git a job," said Jonah. "I went
round ter Bob Watkins, but 'e's in the 'orspital, an' 'is wife's sellin'
'is tools."

"Wot does she want for 'em?" asked Mrs Yabsley, with a curious look.

"Seven quid, an' they'd set a man up fer life," said Jonah.

"Ah! that's a lot o' money," said Mrs Yabsley, raking the ashes from
under the copper. "Wait till this water boils, an' we'll talk things
over."

Ada returned to her novelette. Ray, sitting upright with an effort,
gurgled with pleasure to see his father. Jonah tilted him on his back,