rrow for half an hour? The wheel's off mine."

Mr. Quince hesitated, and then favoured him with a glance intended to
remind him of his scurvy behaviour three days before.

"You can have it," he said at last, rising.

Mr. Hogg pinched his friend in his excitement, and both watched Mr.
Quince with bated breath as he took long, slow strides toward the
tool-shed. He tried the door and then went into the house, and even
before his reappearance both gentlemen knew only too well what was about
to happen. Red was all too poor a word to apply to Mr. Rose's
countenance as the shoemaker came toward them, feeling in his waist-coat
pocket with hooked fingers and thumb, while Mr. Hogg's expressive
features were twisted into an appearance of rosy appreciation.

"Did you want the barrow very particular?" inquired the shoemaker, in a
regretful voice.

"Very particular," said Mr. Hogg.

Mr. Quince went through the performance of feeling in all his pockets,
and then stood meditatively rubbing his chin.

"The door's locked," he said, slowly, "and what I've done with that there
key----"

"You open that door," vociferated Mr. Rose, "else I'll break it in.
You've got my daughter in that shed and I'm going to have her out."

"Your daughter?" said Mr. Quince, with an air of faint surprise. "What
should she be doing in my shed?"

"You let her out," stormed Mr. Rose, trying to push past him.

"Don't trespass on my premises," said Lawyer Quince, interposing his
long, gaunt frame. "If you want that door opened you'll have to wait
till my boy Ned comes home. I expect he knows where to find the key."

Mr. Rose's hands fell limply by his side and his tongue, turning prudish,
refused its office. He turned and stared at Mr. Hogg in silent
consternation.

"Never known him to be beaten yet," said that admiring weather-cock.

"Ned's been away three days," said the shoemaker, "but I expect him home
soon."

Mr. Rose made a strange noise in his throat and then, accepting his
defeat, set off at a rapid pace in the direction of home. In a
marvellously short space of time, considering his age and figure, he was
seen returning with Ned Quince, flushed and dishevelled, walking by his
side.

"Here he is," said the farmer. "Now where's that key?"

Lawyer Quince took his son by the arm and led him into the house, from
whence they almost immediately emerged with Ned waving the key.

"I thought it wasn't far," said the sapient Mr. Hogg.