warmed in my bosom and----"

"There's no call to be indelicate, George," said Mr. Stiles, reprovingly,
as he paused at the door of the house. "Let's sit down and talk it over
quietly."

Mr. Burton followed him into the room and, taking a chair, waited.

"It's evident she's struck with me," said Mr. Stiles, slowly; "it's also
evident that if you tell her the truth it might spoil my chances. I
don't say it would, but it might. That being so, I'm agreeable to going
back without seeing her again by the six-forty train to-morrow morning if
it's made worth my while."

"Made worth your while?" repeated the other.

"Certainly," said the unblushing Mr. Stiles. "She's not a bad-looking
woman--for her age--and it's a snug little business."

Mr. Burton, suppressing his choler, affected to ponder. "If 'arf a
sovereign--" he said, at last.

"Half a fiddlestick!" said the other, impatiently. "I want ten pounds.
You've just drawn your pension, and, besides, you've been a saving man
all your life."

"Ten pounds?" gasped the other. "D'ye think I've got a gold-mine in the
back garden?"

Mr. Stiles leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet. "I don't go