"Any room for poor lodgers ?" Miss Tranter glanced at him, and then at his companion.
"That depends on the lodgers," she answered curtly.
"That's right! That's quite right, Miss!" said Peke with propitiatory deference.

"You 'se allus right whatsoever ye does an' sez! But yer knows _me_,--yer knows Matt Peke, don't yer ?" Miss Tranter smiled sourly, and her knitting needles glittered like crossed knives as she finished a particular row of stitches on which she was engaged before condescending to reply.

Then she said:-- "Yes, I know _you_ right enough, but I don't know your company.

I'm not taking up strangers." "Lord love ye! This aint a stranger!" exclaimed Peke.

"This 'ere's old David, a friend o' mine as is out o' work through gittin' more years on 'is back than the British Gov'ment allows, an' 'e's trampin' it to see 'is relations afore 'e gits put to bed wi' a shovel.