Don't say anything more to me about her; you'd better not!' 'Better not!' exclaimed Noah.

'Well! Better not! Work'us, don't be impudent.

_Your_ mother, too! She was a nice 'un she was.

Oh, Lor!' And here, Noah nodded his head expressively; and curled up as much of his small red nose as muscular action could collect together, for the occasion.
'Yer know, Work'us,' continued Noah, emboldened by Oliver's silence, and speaking in a jeering tone of affected pity: of all tones the most annoying: 'Yer know, Work'us, it can't be helped now; and of course yer couldn't help it then; and I am very sorry for it; and I'm sure we all are, and pity yer very much.

But yer must know, Work'us, yer mother was a regular right-down bad 'un.' 'What did you say ?' inquired Oliver, looking up very quickly.
'A regular right-down bad 'un, Work'us,' replied Noah, coolly.