imperatively, “Tell Pennyloaf to make it up with her again.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know what goes on in Hanover Street You was a fool to send her away, and you’d ought to have told me about it before now. If they was such friends, I suppose the girl told her lots o’ things. But I expect they see each other just the same. You don’t suppose she does all you tell her?”
“I’ll bet you what you like she does!” cried Bob.
Clem glared at him.
“Oh, you an’ your Pennyloaf! Likely she tells you the truth. You’re so fond of each other, ain’t you! Tells you everything, does she?—and the way you treat her!”
“Who’s always at me to make me treat her worse still?” Bob retorted half angrily, half in expostulation.
“Well, and so I am, ’cause I hate the name of her! I’d like to hear as you starve her and her brats half to death. How much money did you give her last week? Now you just tell me the truth. How much was it?”
