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shopping. Won't let me shop, she won't, because I'm so keerless. She's
a wonderful manager, that girl. Minnie's got some work at the carpet
place. 'Ope it won't make 'er ill again. She's a loving deliket sort,
is Minnie.... Come into the front parlour. It's a bit untidy, but you
got to take us as you find us. Wot you been doing to your face?"
"
"
Bit of a scrase with the bicycle," said Mr. Polly.
Trying to pass a carriage on the on side, and he drew up and ran me
against a wall."
Mrs. Larkins scrutinised it. "You ought to 'ave someone look after
your scrases," she said. "That's all red and rough. It ought to be
cold-creamed. Bring your bicycle into the passage and come in."
She "straightened up a bit," that is to say she increased the
dislocation of a number of scattered articles, put a workbasket on the
top of several books, swept two or three dogs'-eared numbers of the
Lady's Own Novelist from the table into the broken armchair, and
proceeded to sketch together the tea-things with various such
interpolations as: "Law, if I ain't forgot the butter!" All the while
she talked of Annie's good spirits and cleverness with her millinery,
and of Minnie's affection and Miriam's relative love of order and
management. Mr. Polly stood by the window uneasily and thought how
good and sincere was the Larkins tone. It was well to be back again.
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