“If that’s how you feel, just throw me out, why don’t you?”

“Well I’ve half a mind to, Victor. What with all these little surprises here an’ there, I can’t help meself from wonderin’ what other surprises be round the corner. Bigger surprises p’raps.”

“I ain’t got you no presents if that’s what you be referrin’ to.”

“I’m not talkin’ about presents, you cretin. All’s I want’s for you to stop takin’ our livelihood for granted. These cakes don’t come out of nowhere you know. Carry on like this and what’ll we live on? When you’ve sold the chickens there’ll be no eggs, no baking, no cake after tea. There won’t even be no tea on the table. All because of you.”

“Oh Mabel. No cake? I’ve been dreadful inconsiderate Mabel. I’ve been givin’ away everythin’ we’ve worked so ‘ard for.”

“Look, I’ll make us boiled eggs, only one each mind, and let’s tuck up the chickens in bed, and promise ’em we won’t sell no more of ’em. An’ there might be a sponge puddin’ in this ‘ere pot, if you agree you ain’t lettin’ the farmer’s wife ‘ave them speckled eggs no more.”