l settled in the plan of campaign. Rest the cobs for an hour
or so. Get round to the stables again about five, and I'll be there.
It's very Kind of you; I'm very greatly obliged. And if you
_could_--without inconvenience--"

His eyes fell upon Gammon's clothing, which lay heaped on a chair. On
the part of the man in bed there was a moment's hesitation, but Gammon
had never refused a loan which it was in his power to grant. In a few
minutes he fulfilled his promise to Mrs. Bubb, seeing Greenacre safely
out of the house, and making fast the front door again; then he turned
in and slept soundly till seven o'clock.

All went well in the morning. The sun shone and there was a pleasant
north-west breeze; in high spirits Gammon mounted the big but light
van, which seemed to shout in its brilliancy of red and blue paint.

It was some time since he had had the pleasure of driving a pair.
Greenacre had not overpraised the cobs; their start promised an
enjoyable day. He was not troubled by any sense of indignity unfailing
humour and a vast variety of experience preserved him from such
thoughts. As always, he threw himself into the business of the moment
with conscientious gusto; he had "Saponaria" at heart, and was as
anxious to advertise the new washing powder as if the profits were all
his own. At one spot where a little crowd chanced to gather about the
van he delivered an address, a fervid eulogy of "Saponaria," declaring
his conviction (based on private correspondence) that in a week or two
it would be exclusively used in all the laundries of the Royal Family.

At one shop where he was instructed to call he found a little trap
waiting, and as he entered there came out a man whom he knew by sight,
evidently a traveller, who mounted the trap and drove off. The
shopkeeper was in a very disagreeable mood and returned Gammon's
greeting roughly.

"Something wrong?" asked Gammon with his wonted cheeriness.

"Saw that chap in the white 'at? I've just told him str'ight that if he
comes into this shop again I'll kick 'im. I told him str'ight--see?"

"Did you? I like to hear a man talk like that. It shows there's
something in him. Who is the fellow? I seem to remember him somehow."

"Quodlings' traveller. And he's lost them my orders. And I shall write
and tell 'em so. I never did like that chap; but when he comes in 'ere,
with his white 'at, telling me how to manage my own business, and
larfin', yis larfin', why, I've done with