sight, evidently a traveller, who mounted the trap and drove off.
The shopkeeper was in a very disagreeable mood and returned Gammon's
greeting roughly.

"Something wrong?" asked Gammon with his wonted cheeriness.

"Saw that chap in the white 'at? I've just told him str'ight that if
he comes into this shop again I'll kick 'im. I told him
str'ight--see?"

"Did you? I like to hear a man talk like that. It shows there's
something in him. Who is the fellow? I seem to remember him
somehow."

"Quodlings' traveller. And he's lost them my orders. And I shall
write and tell 'em so. I never did like that chap; but when he comes
in 'ere, with his white 'at, telling me how to manage my own
business, and larfin', yis larfin', why, I've done with him. And I
told him str'ight," etc.

"Quodlings', eh?" said Gammon reflectively. "They're likely to be
wanting a new traveller, I should say."

"They will if they take my advice," replied the shopkeeper. "And
that I shall give 'em, 'ot and strong."

As he drove on Gammon mused over this incident. The oil and colour
business was not one of his "specialities," but he knew a good deal
about it, and could easily learn what remained. The name of Quodling
interested him, being that of the man in the City who so strikingly