"'Well, you needn't be," said Mr. Billing, with dignity. "It would take
more than a couple o' props in the jaw to make me alter my mind when I've
made it up. You ought to know that by this time. Hurry up and finish.
I want you to go to the corner and fetch me a pot."

"What, ain't you going out agin?" demanded his astonished wife.

Mr. Billing shook his head. "Somebody else might want to give me one,"
he said, resignedly, "and I've 'ad about all I want to-night."

His face was still painful next morning, but as he sat at breakfast in
the small kitchen he was able to refer to Mr. Ricketts in terms which
were an eloquent testimony to Mr. Purnip's teaching. Mrs. Billing,
unable to contain herself, wandered off into the front room with a
duster.

"Are you nearly ready to go?" she inquired, returning after a short
interval.

"Five minutes," said Mr. Billing, nodding. I'll just light my pipe and
then I'm off."

"'Cos there's two or three waiting outside for you," added his wife.

Mr. Billing rose. "Ho, is there?" he said, grimly, as he removed his
coat and proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves. "I'll learn 'em. I'll
give 'em something to wait for. I'll----"

His voice died away as he saw the triumph in his wife's face, and,
drawing down his sleeves again, he took up his coat and stood eyeing her