ilence. "Glad?"

The girl nodded. "I like pluck," she said, with a glance in the
direction of Mr. Jobling; "and, besides, whoever took it had as much
right to it as Gingell and Watson; they didn't earn it."

Mrs. Jobling, appalled at such ideas, glanced at her husband to see how
he received them. "The man's a thief," she said, with great energy, "and
he won't enjoy his gains."

"I dare say--I dare say he'll enjoy it right enough," said Mr. Jobling,
"if he ain't caught, that is."

"I believe he is the sort of man I should like," declared Miss Robinson,
obstinately.

"I dare say," said Mrs. Jobling; "and I've no doubt he'd like you. Birds
of a--"

"That'll do," said her husband, peremptorily; "that's enough about it.
The guv'nors can afford to lose it; that's one comfort."

He leaned over as the girl asked for more sugar and dropped a spoonful
in her cup, expressing surprise that she should like her tea so sweet.
Miss Robinson, denying the sweetness, proffered her cup in proof, and
Mrs. Jobling sat watching with blazing eyes the antics of her husband as
he sipped at it.

"Sweets to the sweet," he said, gallantly, as he handed it back.

Miss Robinson pouted, and, raising the cup to her lips, gazed ardently
at him over the rim. Mr. Jobling, who certainly felt not more than
twenty-two that evening, stole her cake and received in return a rap
from a teaspoon. Mr. Jobling retaliated, and Mrs. Jobling, unable to
eat, sat looking on in helpless fury at little arts of fascination which
she had discarded--at Mr. Jobling's earnest request--soon after their
marriage.

By dint of considerable self-control, aided by an occasional glance from
her husband, she managed to preserve her calm until he returned from
accompaning the visitor to her tram. Then her pent-up feelings found
vent. Quietly scornful at first, she soon waxed hysterical over his age
and figure. Tears followed as she bade him remember what a good wife
she had been to him, loudly claiming that any other woman would have
poisoned him long ago. Speedily finding that tears were of no avail, and
that Mr. Jobling seemed to regard them rather as a tribute to his worth
than otherwise, she gave way to fury, and, in a fine, but unpunctuated
passage, told him her exact opinion of Miss Robinson.

"It's no good carrying on like that," said Mr. Jobling, magisterially,
"and, what's more, I won't have it."

"Walking into my house and making eyes at my 'usband," stormed hi