But we're open late, as perhaps you know, sir, on Saturday night, and Mr.Boxon--well, it's only the truth--he's never quite himself after ten o'clock.

I'd worked from eight in the morning to something past midnight--of course I don't think nothing of that, 'cause it's reg'lar in the trade.

But--well, in come a customer, sir, a woman as didn't rightly know what she wanted; and she went out without buying, and Mr.Boxon he see it, and he come up to me and calls me the foulest name he could turn his tongue to.

And so--well, sir, there was unpleasantness, as they say--" He hesitated, Warburton eyeing him with a twinkle of subdued amusement.
"A quarrel, in fact, eh ?" "It did about come to that, sir!" "You lost your temper, of course." "That's about the truth, sir." "And Boxon turned you out ?" Allchin looked hurt.
"Well, sir, I've no doubt he'd have liked to, but I was a bit beforehand with him.

When I see him last, he was settin' on the pavement, sir, rubbin' his 'ead." In spite of his inclination to laugh, Will kept a grave countenance.
"I'm afraid that kind of thing won't do, Allchin.