Two for Three Farthings Read Online Free PDF Page A

gritted.
    â€˜Could yer let ’er, please?’ begged Orrice from under his cap.
    The woman gave in to understanding and sympathy.
    â€˜Come on, then, ducks,’ she said, ‘come up to me flat.’
    Effel disappeared with her, leaving Orrice with both sacks. He sat on the doorstep and waited, interesting himself in the market activities. He liked the hustle and bustle of markets. A man came up, a man in the waistcoat, tieless shirt, knotted scarf, corded trousers and flat cap of a costermonger.
    â€˜What yer doing, kid?’ he asked.
    â€˜I’m just sittin’,’ said Orrice.
    â€˜I thought yer was. I said to meself, I said, that kid’s just sittin’. Well, I ’opes yer won’t take umbrage if I tell yer yer sittin’ in me way. Yer can oblige me by ’opping orf.’
    Orrice scrambled up.
    â€˜I ain’t takin’ no umbrage, mister. D’yer want any errands run?’
    â€˜Yus, it so ’appens I does,’ said the costermonger, ‘I wants me old woman to run all the bleedin’ way down to the old clothes stall by Brandon Street, but you ain’t ’er, are yer, sonny?’
    â€˜I’ll go for yer, mister, I can run,’ said Orrice.
    â€˜Oh, yer can, can yer?’ The costermonger looked impressed. ‘All right, orf yer go, then.’
    â€˜What’s the errand, mister?’
    â€˜Don’t know, do yer?’ A grin flickered.
    â€˜No, mister,’ said Orrice.
    â€˜So it ain’t no good yer running, then, is it?’
    â€˜Mister, that ain’t fair,’ said Orrice stoutly.
    â€˜It’s learnin’ yer, sonny, it’s learnin’ yer.’
    â€˜It still ain’t fair,’ said Orrice.
    â€˜Well, ’ow about a clip round the ear’ole?’
    â€˜That ain’t fair, neither,’ said Orrice.
    The costermonger grinned again, hugely.
    â€˜Well, I likes yer, sonny,’ he said. He entered the passage. He turned. His hand came out of his pocket. ‘This fair?’ he said, and flipped a penny at Orrice, who neatly caught it.
    â€˜Mister, yer a sport,’ he said.
    Effel reappeared. She came down the stairs and eeled her way past the costermonger. He stared at her.
    â€˜Where’d she come from?’ he asked.
    â€˜She’s me sister,’ said Orrice.
    â€˜Beats me, kids all over the place and in me own ’ome. Bessie?’ He went up the stairs.
    â€˜Effel, you all right now?’ asked Orrice.
    â€˜Ain’t saying.’
    â€˜I only asked, that’s all, I only asked.’
    â€˜Ain’t nice, askin’,’ said Effel.
    â€˜Why ain’t it?’
    â€˜Ain’t telling,’ said Effel.
    Orrice grinned. Funny little thing, his skin and blister was.
    â€˜Come on,’ he said, and they picked up their sacks and began to wander through the market, its lively atmosphere easing their heartache a little. ‘Effel, I told yer we’d meet some nice people. I just been given a penny from that bloke. He give it to me just for talkin’ with him.’
    â€˜â€™E didn’t give me one,’ said Effel, her sack again clasped to her chest.
    â€˜Well, yer didn’t talk to ’im,’ said Orrice, looking at what the stalls had on offer.
    â€˜Ain’t talkin’ to no-one,’ said Effel. The laden fruit stalls began to make her mouth water. ‘Orrice, can we buy an orange each?’
    â€˜No, we got to spend our money on fings more—’ Orrice thought about a suitable word. He picked one from his dad’s repertoire. ‘More nourishing, like.’
    â€˜I’m ’ungry,’ said Effel.
    â€˜Oh, that’s good, that is,’ said Orrice, as he and his sister edged their way through roaming, stopping, starting and dawdling people. ‘Should’ve ate up yer breakfast and them sardines an’ bread.’
    â€˜Ugh,’ said Effel. ‘Orrice, I’m