said he;
"it's a regular sell on both sides. However, neither of us is worse off
than he was, since neither of us had anything. As for me, I have gained
one point, for I have a tolerably good-looking wife."

Mr. Whedell was about to retort in a vein of unmitigated ferocity, when
Mrs. Chiffield, who had been listening in the entry, and could contain
herself no longer, rushed into the room, and, brandishing a small
clenched hand in the face of her laughing spouse, forcibly observed:

"You sneaking, swindling, cheating, lying, black-hearted, ill-looking
pauper, scoundrel, and vagabond!"

"Very prettily said," remarked the imperturbable Chiffield.

"You miserable thief!" continued his matrimonial partner, aiming a blow
at him, which he playfully parried; "why didn't you tell me you were
a beggar?"

"Why? Because you didn't ask me. For that matter, why didn't you or
your father tell me that _you_ were beggars?"

"I sha'n't answer your insulting questions, you mean, deceiving, ugly,
ungentlemanly--" (no other epithet suggesting itself.) At this crisis,
the infuriated wife burst into tears, and wished several times that
she was dead.

"Poor, dear wifey!" said the emollient Chiffield.

"None of your 'poor dears' to my daughter, you jailbird!" screamed Mr.
Whedell.

"Now, don't get excited, father-in-law."

"How dare you call me father-in-law, sir!"

"Perhaps you prefer the more endearing epithet of 'poppy,' sir?"

"Monster! will you leave my house?"

"Have you any good old brandy on hand?" asked Chiffield.

"Brandy! No. If you want brandy, sir, go to the d---l for it."

"Not quite so far, thank you," retorted Chiffield the genial; "but I
don't mind walking to the next corner for a smash."

Chiffield rose, put on his hat, and stepped toward the door.

"Good-by, wifey. I sha'n't be gone long."

A growl, bisected by a sob, was the only reply.

"By-by, poppy," said Chiffield, with a flippant wave of the hand.

Mr. Whedell cast at him a look of scorn, to which justice could be done
in no known language; and Chiffield, with a bow of exceeding grace, left
father and child to their reflections.

CHAPTER VI.

MR. WHEDEEL'S CREDITORS IN CONVENTION ASSEMBLED.

These reflections, which were neither profitable nor interesting to the
parties immediately concerned, were interrupted by a peculiarly
rigorous pull at the door bell. Pulls of a startling description had
come so often, the previous ten minutes, that