The peace of the evening was not broken by the notes of the sedge-warblers or by the voice of the woman in the barge, singing her baby to sleep.

It was a sad song she sang.

Something about Bill Bailey and how she wanted him to come home.
The children stood leaning their arms on the parapet of the bridge; they were glad to be quiet for a few minutes because all three hearts were beating much more quickly.
"I'm not going to be driven away by any old bargeman, I'm not," said Peter, thickly.
"Of course not," Phyllis said soothingly; "you didn't give in to him! So now we might go home, don't you think ?" "NO," said Peter.
Nothing more was said till the woman got off the barge, climbed the bank, and came across the bridge.
She hesitated, looking at the three backs of the children, then she said, "Ahem." Peter stayed as he was, but the girls looked round.
"You mustn't take no notice of my Bill," said the woman; "'is bark's worse'n 'is bite.

Some of the kids down Farley way is fair terrors.

It was them put 'is back up calling out about who ate the puppy-pie under Marlow bridge." "Who DID ?" asked Phyllis.
"_I_ dunno," said the woman.