ep it from Miller as long as possible. If you hear any one else
talking of it, tell 'em to keep it from him. If he marries her I'll give
you a couple of pints."

Mr. Smith promised faithfully, and both the Tidgers and Mrs. Pullen were
surprised to find that Mr. Miller was the only visitor that evening. He
spoke but little, and that little in a slow, ponderous voice intended for
Mrs. Pullen's ear alone. He spoke disparagingly of money, and shook his
head slowly at the temptations it brought in its train. Give him a
crust, he said, and somebody to halve it with--a home-made crust baked by
a wife. It was a pretty picture, but somewhat spoiled by Mrs. Tidger
suggesting that, though he had spoken of halving the crust, he had said
nothing about the beer.

"Half of my beer wouldn't be much," said the dealer, slowly.

"Not the half you would give your wife wouldn't," retorted Mrs. Tidger.

The dealer sighed and looked mournfully at Mrs. Pullen. The lady sighed
in return, and finding that her admirer's stock of conversation seemed to
be exhausted, coyly suggested a game of draughts. The dealer assented
with eagerness, and declining the offer of a glass of beer by explaining
that he had had one the day before yesterday, sat down and lost seven
games right off. He gave up at the seventh game, and pushing back his
chair, said that he thought Mrs. Pullen was the most wonderful draught-
player he had ever seen, and took no notice when Mrs. Tidger, in a dry
voice charged with subtle meaning, said that she thought he was.

"Draughts come natural to some people," said Mrs. Pullen, modestly.
"It's as easy as kissing your fingers."

Mr. Miller looked doubtful; then he put his great fingers to his lips by
way of experiment, and let them fall unmistakably in the widow's
direction. Mrs. Pullen looked down and nearly blushed. The carpenter
and his wife eyed each other in indignant consternation.

"That's easy enough," said the dealer, and repeated the offense.

Mrs. Pullen got up in some confusion, and began to put the draught-board
away. One of the pieces fell on the floor, and as they both stooped to
recover it their heads bumped. It was nothing to the dealer's, but Mrs.
Pullen rubbed hers and sat down with her eyes watering. Mr. Miller took
out his handkerchief, and going to the scullery, dipped it into water and
held it to her head.

"Is it better?" he inquired.

"A little better," said the victim, with a shiver.