ad, and to a china shop,
over which stood the name of Clover.

In the window hung a card with an inscription in bold letters: "Glass,
china, and every kind of fashionable ornament for the table for hire on
moderate terms." Mr. Gammon read this with an appreciative smile,
which, accompanied by a nod, became a greeting to Mrs. Clover, who was
aware of him from within the shop. He entered.

"How does it go?"

"Two teas and a supper yesterday. A wedding breakfast this morning."

"Bravo! What did I tell you? You'll want a bigger place before the end
of the year."

The shop was well stocked, the window well laid out; everything
indicated a flourishing, though as yet a small, business. Mrs. Clover,
a neat, comely, and active woman, with a complexion as clear as that of
her own best china, chatted vivaciously with the visitor, whilst she
superintended the unpacking of a couple of crates by a muscular youth
and a young lady (to use the technical term), her shop assistant.

"Why are you off to-day?" she inquired presently, after moving to the
doorway for more private talk.

Mr. Gammon made his explanation with spirit and humour.

"You're a queer man, if ever there was one," Mrs. Clover remarked after
watching him for a moment and averting her eyes as soon as they were
met by his. "You know your own business best, but I should have
thought--"

It was a habit of hers to imply a weighty opinion by suddenly breaking
off, a form of speech known to the grammarians by a name which would
have astonished Mrs. Clover. Few women of her class are prone to this
kind of emphasis. Her friendly manner had a quietness, a reserve in its
cordiality, which suited well with the frank, pleasant features of a
matron not yet past her prime.

"It's all right," he replied, more submissively than he was wont to
speak. "I shall do better next time; I'm looking out for a permanency."

"So you have been for ten years, to my knowledge."

They laughed together. At this point came an interruption in the shape
of a customer who drove up in a hansom: a loudly-dressed woman, who, on
entering the shop, conversed with Mrs. Clover in the lowest possible
voice, and presently returned to her vehicle with uneasy glances left
and right. Mr. Gammon, who had walked for some twenty yards, sauntered
back to the shop, and his friend met him on the threshold.

"That's the sort," she whispered with a merry eye. "Eight-roomed 'ouse
near Queen's Road Station. Wants