"Oh, and I'm a wicked, extravagant woman.

I know I s'll come to want." He hopped to her side eagerly, to see her latest extravagance.

She unfolded another lump of newspaper and disclosed some roots of pansies and of crimson daisies.
"Four penn'orth!" she moaned.
"How CHEAP!" he cried.
"Yes, but I couldn't afford it THIS week of all weeks." "But lovely!" he cried.
"Aren't they!" she exclaimed, giving way to pure joy.

"Paul, look at this yellow one, isn't it--and a face just like an old man!" "Just!" cried Paul, stooping to sniff.

"And smells that nice! But he's a bit splashed." He ran in the scullery, came back with the flannel, and carefully washed the pansy.
"NOW look at him now he's wet!" he said.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, brimful of satisfaction.
The children of Scargill Street felt quite select.