Two for Three Farthings Read Online Free PDF Page B

dates.
    â€˜That’s a talkin’ parrot all right, or me old man’s a cart’orse,’ said the woman, and took a look. She met the earnest brown eyes of Orrice, who was on his knees sorting oranges.
    â€˜D’yer want one, missus?’ he asked.
    The woman smiled.
    â€˜I’d like one like you, love,’ she said, and straightened up. ‘Some kids,’ she said, paying for her dates.
    Effel, who had been waxing indignant, made herself heard.
    â€˜â€™E ain’t a talkin’ parrot, ’e’s me bruvver,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, ’ang on to ’im, ducks,’ said the woman, and departed smiling.
    The stallholder regarded Effel and her battered boater.
    â€˜Oh, yer ’ooping cough’s better, is it?’ he said.
    â€˜I’ve ’ad measles too,’ said Effel.
    â€˜Gawd ’elp us, you ain’t come to give it to me dates, ’ave yer?’
    â€˜Ain’t saying,’ said Effel.
    Orrice emerged, the best of the discarded oranges in the box. He put the bag of dates in too.
    â€˜Yer a good sport, mister,’ he said, ‘fanks a lot. ’Ere, why don’t yer sing a song for the man, Effel? Effel can sing a bit, yer know,’ he said to the stallholder.
    â€˜Ain’t goin’ to,’ said Effel.
    â€˜Oh, come on, sis,’ urged Orrice, ‘’e’s let us ’ave all these decent bad oranges, so why don’t yer sing “Oranges an’ Lemons” for ’im?’
    â€˜I ain’t desp’rate,’ said the stallholder, ‘but go on then, girlie, give it a go.’
    â€˜A’ right,’ said Effel, and sang, ‘“Oranges an’ lemons, the bells of St Clements,”’, then came to a full stop.
    â€˜That don’t seem much of a singsong,’ said the stallholder.
    â€˜Don’t know any more,’ said Effel.
    â€˜Course yer do,’ said Orrice.
    â€˜A’ right,’ said Effel grudgingly, and sang, ‘“I owe you five farvings, said the bells of St Martins”. Don’t know any more.’
    â€˜Tell yer what,’ said the stallholder. ‘How would yer like to sit on me stall next to me dates and I’ll see if I can sell the pair of yer for three farthings? Nearly a bargain, you’d be, for three farthings.’
    â€˜â€™Ere, we ain’t goin’ to be sold off no stall,’ said Orrice indignantly.
    â€˜All right, off yer go, then,’ grinned the stall-holder, ‘before someone comes up an’ makes me an offer for both of yer.’
    â€˜I’ll do errands any time yer want, mister,’ said Orrice, shouldering his sack, and taking up the box in his free hand.
    â€˜I bet yer would.’ The stallholder’s smile broke through. ‘I bet you’re yer mum’s one an’ only perisher.’ At which Effel burst into tears. ‘’Ere, what’s brought that on, girlie?’
    Another customer for dates came up, and Orrice took Effel away.
    â€˜Don’t cry, sis, ’e didn’t know about our mum.’
    Effel, clothes sack in her arms, stifled her sobs.
    â€˜It ain’t right,’ she gulped, ‘it ain’t right we don’t ’ave Mum an’ Dad no more.’
    â€˜Well, no, it ain’t too right, Effel,’ said Orrice, ‘we just got to make do with each other. We’ll be all right, you’ll see. We’ll find somewhere near the market to live, we can always get fings from under the stalls. There’s kind people ’ere, we won’t starve.’
    Effel sighed. Orrice stiffened slightly.
    â€˜Now what?’ asked Effel wanly.
    â€˜Effel, there’s a bobby,’ whispered Orrice, ‘’e’ll ask us why we ain’t at school. We best duck, sis.’
    They ducked to their knees, a stall a barrier between them and the strolling market bobby, who passed by without seeing them. They rose up and went