"Come in, Joey," snorted Jyne. "No one ain't game ter 'it yer w'en I'm 'ere."
The minister still preached, but he had only old Alick for a listener.
The hostess's mental picture of Jinny "sharin'" her dinner for three among that voracious brood was distracting. Only the fear of suffering in the clergyman's mind as one of "them" kept her to her seat. She could give the sermon no attention, but listened to Sis licking her fingers, and wondered if it was the vinegar or the wine that caused Jinny's cough. Presently Jinny set that doubt at rest by coming in odorous, and with the front of her dress wine-stained.
"Little 'un snoozin'!" Jinny remarked, lurching giddily towards her to merrily twirl her fist in the snoozer. The snoozer's mother wondered if they had shut the dining-room door. Soon the noise of the fowls scattering the crockery told her they had not.
"Thum busted fowls is eatin' orl yer dinner," said Jinny dreamily.
"'Unt 'em out an' shet ther door," said sympathetic Jyne.
"You go, Sis, I'm tired." Jinny laid her giddy head on the floor, and went to sleep.
