Hold your foolish Tongue, Mr. Metal, said she, and get you to-bed; have’nt I plague enough with this audacious Slut, do you think, without your meddling and making?

[A]n' 'e was mad, an' so he snatched my cobbler an' run off with it. An' so I run after 'im, an' when I was gettin' hold of him, 'e dodged, an' it ripped 'is collar. But I got my cobbler— He pulled from his pocket a black old horse-chestnut hanging on a string. This old cobbler had cobbled—hit and smashed—seventeen other cobblers on similar strings. So this boy was proud of his veteran.

The men took their lunch, usually Romano cheese, ham or Italian sausage and bread, and a waterbag.

We won't be able to meet next week as we will be in the throes of moving offices. Perhaps the week after will be better.