"I could make it five in a week."

"Well, why don't you?" inquired Mr. Tasker, who was tenderly sucking the
bulb of the thermometer after contact with the side of the oven.

"It's the two quid that's the trouble, Joseph," replied Mr. Vickers,
keeping his temper with difficulty. "A little thing like that wouldn't
be much trouble to you, I know, but to a pore man with a large family
like me it's a'most impossible."

Mr. Tasker went outside to the larder, and returning with a small joint
knelt down and thrust it carefully into the oven.

"A'most impossible," repeated Mr. Vickers, with a sigh.

"What is?" inquired the other, who had not been listening.

The half-choking Mr. Vickers explained.

"Yes, o' course it is," assented Mr. Tasker.

"People what's got money," said the offended Mr. Vickers, regarding him
fiercely, "stick to it like leeches. Now, suppose I was a young man
keeping company with a gal and her father wanted to borrow a couple o'
quid--a paltry couple o' thick'uns--what d'ye think I should do?"

"If you was a young man--keeping company with a gal--and 'er father
wanted--to borrow a couple of quid off o' you--what would you do?"
repeated Mr. Tasker, mechanically, as he bustled to and fro.

Mr. Vickers nodded and smiled. "What should I do?" he inquired again,
hopefully.

"I don't know, I'm sure," said the other, opening the oven door and
peering in. "How should I?"

At the imminent risk of something inside giving way under the strain, Mr.
Vickers restrained himself. He breathed hard, and glancing out of window
sought to regain his equilibrium by becoming interested in a blackbird
outside.

"What I mean to say is," he said at length, in a trembling voice--"what I
mean to say is, without no round-aboutedness, will you lend a 'ard-working
man, what's going to be your future father-in-law, a couple o' pounds?"

Mr. Tasker laughed. It was not a loud laugh, nor yet a musical one.
It was merely a laugh designed to convey to the incensed Mr. Vickers a
strong sense of the absurdity of his request.

"I asked you a question," said the latter gentleman, glaring at him.

"I haven't got a couple o' pounds," replied Mr. Tasker; "and if I 'ad,
there's nine hundred and ninety-nine things I would sooner do with it
than lend it to you."

Mr. Vickers rose and stood regarding the ignoble creature with profound
contempt. His features worked and a host of adjectives crowded to his
lips.

[Illustration: "