Her tastes were very simple.

Give her nothing to do, 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.