JAWBONES. You find yourself ’alf way up a ladder, posting bills as the
other side ’as took objection to—with a crowd of girls from Pink’s jam
factory waiting for you at the bottom with a barrel of treacle, and you
_will_ understand. Nothing else for me to do, o’ course, but to go up.
Then they took the ladder away.
SIGSBY. Where are the bills?
JAWBONES. Last I see of them was their being put into a ’earse on its
way to Ilford Cemetery.
SIGSBY. This has got to be seen into. This sort of thing can’t be
allowed to go on. (_He snatches up his hat_.)
JAWBONES. There’s another suggestion I’d like to make.