fellow. Suppose you begin by telling me a
little more about yourself?'

It was a matter of time, but at length the dialogue took another
character. The glasses of stimulant were renewed, and as Joseph grew
expansive Scawthorne laid aside something of his professional reserve,
without, however, losing the discretion which led him to subdue his
voice and express himself in uncompromising phrases. Their sitting
lasted about an hour, and before taking leave of each other they
arranged for a meeting at a different place in the course of a few days.

Joseph walked homewards with deliberation, in absent mood, his
countenance alternating strangely between a look of mischievous
jocoseness and irritable concern; occasionally he muttered to himself.
Just before reaching the Close he turned into a public-house; when he
came forth the malicious smile was on his face, and he walked with the
air of a man who bas business of moment before him. He admitted himself
to the house.

'That you, Jo?' cried Clem's voice from upstairs.

'Me, sure enough,' was the reply, with a chuckle. 'Come up sharp, then.'

Humming a tune, Joseph ascended to the sitting-room on the first floor,
and threw himself on a seat. His wife stood just in front of him, her
sturdy arms a-kimbo; her look was fiercely expectant, answering in some
degree to the smile with which he looked here and there.

'Well, can't you speak?'

'No hurry, Mrs. Clem; no hurry, my dear. It's all right. The old man's
rolling in money.'

'And what about your share?'

Joseph laughed obstreperously, his wife's brow lowering the while.

'Just tell me, can't you?' she cried.

'Of course I will. The best joke you ever heard. You had yours
yesterday, Mrs. Clem; my turn comes to-day. My share is--just nothing
at all. Not a penny! Not a cent! Swallow that, old girl, and tell me
how it tastes.'

'You're a liar!' shouted the other, her face flushing scarlet, her eyes
aflame with rage.

'Never told a lie in my life,' replied her husband, still laughing
noisily. But for that last glass of cordial on the way home he could
scarcely have enjoyed so thoroughly the dramatic flavour of the
situation. Joseph was neither a bully nor a man of courage; the joke
with which he was delighting himself was certainly a rich one, but it
had its element of danger, and only by abandoning himself to riotous
mirth could he overcome the nervousness with which Clem's fury
threatened to affect him. She, coming