"Couldn't you give it a pick-me-up ?" "I'll jowl your head for impudence," said Mrs.Morel, and she tied the strings of the black bonnet valiantly under her chin.
She glanced at the dish again.

Both she and her enemy, the pot man, had an uncomfortable feeling, as if there were something between them.
Suddenly he shouted: "Do you want it for fivepence ?" She started.

Her heart hardened; but then she stooped and took up her dish.
"I'll have it," she said.
"Yer'll do me the favour, like ?" he said.

"Yer'd better spit in it, like yer do when y'ave something give yer." Mrs.Morel paid him the fivepence in a cold manner.
"I don't see you give it me," she said.

"You wouldn't let me have it for fivepence if you didn't want to." "In this flamin', scrattlin' place you may count yerself lucky if you can give your things away," he growled.
"Yes; there are bad times, and good," said Mrs.Morel.
But she had forgiven the pot man.