ith an embarrassed laugh,
"and girl-like, and Alfred talking a good deal about his relations,
she--she's made the most of it."

"It don't matter," said the complaisant Mr. Price; "you say what you
like. I sha'n't interfere with you."

"But, you see, you don't look as though you've been making money," said
his sister, impatiently. "Look at your clothes."

Mr. Price held up his hand. "That's easy got over," he remarked; "while
I'm having a bit of tea George can go out and buy me some new ones. You
get what you think I should look richest in, George--a black tail-coat
would be best, I should think, but I leave it to you. A bit of a fancy
waistcoat, p'r'aps, lightish trousers, and a pair o' nice boots, easy
sevens."

He sat upright in his chair and, ignoring the look of consternation that
passed between husband and wife, poured himself out a cup of tea and
took a slice of cake.

"Have you got any money?" said Mr. Spriggs, after a long pause.

"I left it behind me--in Australia," said Mr. Price, with ill-timed
facetiousness.

"Getting better, ain't you?" said his brother-in-law, sharply. "How's
that broken 'art getting on?"

"It'll go all right under a fancy waistcoat," was the reply; "and while
you're about it, George, you'd better get me a scarf-pin, and, if you
_could_ run to a gold watch and chain--"

He was interrupted by a frenzied outburst from Mr. Spriggs; a somewhat
incoherent summary of Mr. Price's past, coupled with unlawful and
heathenish hopes for his future.

"You're wasting time," said Mr. Price, calmly, as he paused for breath.
"Don't get 'em if you don't want to. I'm trying to help you, that's all.
I don't mind anybody knowing where I've been. I was innercent. If you
will give way to sinful pride you must pay for it."

Mr. Spriggs, by a great effort, regained his self-control. "Will you go
away if I give you a quid?" he asked, quietly.

"No," said Mr. Price, with a placid smile. "I've got a better idea of
the value of money than that. Besides, I want to see my dear niece, and
see whether that young man's good enough for her."

"Two quid?" suggested his brother-in-law. Mr. Price shook his head. "I
couldn't do it," he said, calmly. "In justice to myself I couldn't do
it. You'll be feeling lonely when you lose Ethel, and I'll stay and keep
you company."

The bricklayer nearly broke out again; but, obeying a glance from his
wife, closed his lips and followed her obediently upstairs. Mr. Price,