I counted my notes,
wantin' change, and I thought of a salmon I bought on the banks of the
Suir to make a present to Chump, which was our onnly visit to Waterford
together: for he naver went t' Ireland before or after--dyin' as he did!
and it's not his ingrat'tude, with his talk of a Severrn salmon-to the
deuce with 'm! that makes me soft-poor fella!--I didn't mean to the
deuce;--but since he's gone, his widde's just unfit to bargain for
a salmon at all, and averybody robs her, and she's kept poor, and
hatud!--D'ye heer, Pole? I've lost my money, my money! and I will speak,
and ye shann't interrupt me!"

During the delivery of this charge against the household, Mr. Pole had
several times waved to the servants to begone; but as they had always
the option to misunderstand authoritative gestures, they preferred
remaining, and possibly he perceived that they might claim to do so
under accusation.

"How can you bring this charge against the inmates of my house--eh?
I guarantee the honesty of all who serve me. Martha! you must be mad,
mad!--Money? why, you never have money; you waste it if you do."

"Not money, Pole? Oh! and why? Becas ye keep me low o' purpose, till I
cringe like a slut o' the scullery, and cry out for halfpence. But, oh!
that seventy-five pounds in notes!"

Mr. Pole shook his head, as one who deals with a gross delusion: "I
remember nothing about it."

"Not about--?" Mrs. Chump dropped her chin. "Ye don't remember the
givin' of me just that sum of seventy-five, in eight notes, Pole?"

"Eh? I daresay I have given you the amount, one time or other. Now,
let's be quiet about it."

"Yesterday mornin', Pole! And the night I go to bed I count my money,
and, says I, I'll not lock ut up, for I'll onnly be unlockin' again
to-morrow; and doin' a thing and undoin' ut's a sign of a brain that's
addled--like yours, Pole, if ye say ye didn't go to give me the notes."

Mr. Pole frowned at her sagaciously. "Must change your diet, Martha!"

"My dite? And what's my dite to do with my money?"

"Who went into Mrs. Chump's bedchamber this morning?" asked Mr. Pole
generally.

A pretty little housemaid replied, with an indignant flush, that she
was the person. Mrs. Chump acknowledged to being awake when the shutters
were opened, and agreed that it was not possible her pockets could have
been rifled then.

"So, you see, Martha, you're talking nonsense," said Mr. Pole. "Do you
know the numbers of those notes?"

"T