"
"What's the trouble?" I inquire.
The old geezer turns rapidly on me. "'Ere 'e's gone and sold me two
'errings for tuppence 'alfpenny which was that salt my 'usband went
near mad, what with the pubs bein' shut all afternoon, an' now 'e's
popped the fender jus' to get rid of 'is thirst."
"I told you to soak 'em in three waters," says the fishmonger.
"'Ow much beer is my 'usband to soak 'imself in--tell me that?"
It is time for tact. I whisper in the lady's ear, "Come along--don't
argue with a man like that. He's beneath you."
She comes away. I am triumphant. But she turns round and cries, "This
gentleman as _is_ a gentleman says I ain't to lower meself by talkin'
to a 'ound like you."
I move on. I doubt if the fishmonger will be pleased by the lady's
representation of my few words, and I make a mental note to keep away
from his stall. All at once another lady, who for some obscure reason
is carrying a bucket, grips me by the arm.
"I'm goin' to 'ave the law on my side, I am," she declares
emphatically, "an' then I'll smash 'is bloomin' fice in."
I am swayed towards a fruit-stall.
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