to see my wife in one, but I s'pose a woman must wear what all the rest does.'
And do you think that girl would speak? Not a blanky word.
We finished our second puddin' and fourth cup of tea, and I was just gettin' up when Dave catches holt on my arm, like that, and pulls me down into my chair again.
''Old on," whispers Dave; 'I'm goin' to make that blanky gal speak.'
'You won't,' I says.
'Bet you a five-pound-note,' says Dave.
'Allright,' I says.
So I sits down again, and Dave whistles to the girl, and he passes along his cup and mine. She filled 'em at once, without a word, and we got outside our fifth cup of tea each. Then Dave jingled his spoon, and passed both cups along again. She put some hot water in the pot this time, and, after we'd drunk another couple of cups, Dave muttered somethin' about drownin' the miller.
'We want tea, not warm water,' he growled, lookin' sulky and passin' along both cups again.
But she never opened her mouth; she wouldn't speak. She didn't even look cross. She made a fresh pot of tea, and filled our cups again. She didn't even slam the cups down, or swamp the tea over into the saucers―which would have been quite natural, considerin'.
'I'm about done,' I said to Dave directly in a low whisper. 'We'll have to give it up, I'm afraid, Dave,' I says.
