It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through was that woman, shoved behind by the potman.  Arter ’im came a car-man, two big ‘ulking brewers’ draymen, a little scrap of a woman with ’er bonnet cocked over one eye, and a couple of dirty little boys.

“Wot is it?” ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind ’em.  “A beanfeast?”

“This lady wants her ’usband,” ses the pot-man, pointing at me.  “He run away from her nine years ago, and now he says he ’as never seen ’er before.  He ought to be ’ung.”

“Bill,” ses the skipper, shaking his silly ’ead at me.  “I can ’ardly believe it.”

“It’s all a pack o’ silly lies,” I ses, firing up.  “She’s made a mistake.”

“She made a mistake when she married you,” ses the thin little woman.  “If I was in ’er shoes I’d take ’old of you and tear you limb from limb.”

“I don’t want to hurt ’im, ma’am,” ses the other woman.  “I on’y want him to come ’ome to me and my five.  Why, he’s never seen the youngest, little Annie.  She’s as like ’im as two peas.”

“Pore little devil,” ses the carman.

“Look here!” I ses, “you clear off.  All of you.  ’Ow dare you come on to my wharf?  If you aren’t gone in two minutes I’ll give you all in charge.”

“Who to?” ses one of the draymen, sticking his face into mine.  “You go ’ome to your wife and kids.  Go on now, afore I put up my ’ands to you.”

“That’s the way to talk to ’im,” ses the pot-man, nodding at ’em.

They all began to talk to me then and tell me wot I was to do, and wot they would do if I didn’t.  I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.  When I reminded the mate that when he was up in London ’e always passed himself off as a single man, ’e wouldn’t listen; and when I asked the skipper whether ’is pore missus was blind, he on’y went on shouting at the top of ’is voice.  It on’y showed me ’ow anxious most people are that everybody else should be good.

I thought they was never going to stop, and, if it ’adn’t been for a fit of coughing, I don’t believe that the scraggy little woman could ha’ stopped.  Arter one o’ the draymen ’ad saved her life and spoilt ’er temper by patting ‘er on the back with a hand the size of a leg o’ mutton, the carman turned to me and told me to tell the truth, if it choked me.

“I have told you the truth,” I ses.  “She ses I’m her ’usband and I say I ain’t.  Ow’s she going to prove it?  Why should you believe her, and not me?”

“She’s got a truthful face,” ses the carman.

“Look here!” ses the skipper, speaking very slow, “I’ve got an idea, wot’ll settle it p’raps.  You get outside,” he ses, turning sharp on the two little boys.

One o’ the draymen ’elped ’em to go out, and ’arf a minute arterwards a stone came over the gate and cut the potman’s lip open.  Boys will be boys.

“Now!” ses the skipper, turning to the woman, and smiling with conceitedness.  “Had your ’usband got any marks on ’im?  Birth-mark, or moles, or anything of that sort?”