"I'll cum wid yer, if yer feel lonely," said Chook as she passed.

"Yous git a move on, or yer'll miss the bus," cried Pinkey, as she passed
out of sight.

When Chook worked his way back to the corner, little Joe Crutch and
Waxy Collins stepped forward.

"W'ere the 'ell 'ave yer bin? We've bin waitin' 'ere this 'arf 'our,"
they cried indignantly.

"Wot liars yer do meet," said Chook, grinning.

The three entered the new market, an immense red-brick square with a
smooth, cemented floor, and a lofty roof on steel girders. It is here
the people amuse themselves with the primitive delights of an English fair
after the fatigue of shopping.

The larrikins turned to the chipped-potato stall as a hungry dog jumps at
a bone, eagerly sniffing the smell of burning fat as the potatoes crisped
in the spitting grease.

"It's up ter yous ter shout," cried Joe and Waxy.

"Well, a tray bit won't break me," said Chook, producing threepence
from his pocket.

The dealer, wearing the flat white cap of a French cook, and a clean
apron, ladled the potatoes out of the cans into a strainer on the counter.