“We’ve all got to go some day,” observed Mr. Kybird, philosophically.  “‘Ow’s that cough o’ yours getting on, Nat?”

Mr. Smith met the pleasantry coldly; the ailment referred to was one of some standing and had been a continual source of expense in the way of balsams and other remedies.

“He’s worried about ’is money,” he said, referring to Mr. Swann.

“Ah, we sha’n’t ’ave that worry,” said Mr. Kybird.

“Nobody to leave it to,” continued Mr. Smith.  “Seems a bit ’ard, don’t it?”

“P’r’aps if ’e ’ad ’ad somebody to leave it to ’e wouldn’t ’ave ’ad so much to leave,” observed Mr. Kybird, sagely; “it’s a rum world.”

He shook his head over it and went on with the uncongenial task of marking down wares which had suffered by being exposed outside too long.  Mr. Smith, who always took an interest in the welfare of his friends, made suggestions.

“I shouldn’t put a ticket marked ‘Look at this!’ on that coat,” he said, severely.  “It oughtn’t to be looked at.”

“It’s the best out o’ three all ’anging together,” said Mr. Kybird, evenly.

“And look ’ere,” said Mr. Smith.  “Look what an out-o’-the-way place you’ve put this ticket.  Why not put it higher up on the coat?”

“Becos the moth-hole ain’t there,” said Mr. Kybird.

Mr. Smith apologized and watched his friend without further criticism.

“Gettin’ ready for the wedding, I s’pose?” he said, presently.

Mr. Kybird assented, and his brow darkened as he spoke of surreptitious raids on his stores made by Mrs. Kybird and daughter.

“Their idea of a wedding,” he said, bitterly, “is to dress up and make a show; my idea is a few real good old pals and plenty of licker.”

“You’ll ’ave to ’ave both,” observed Nathan Smith, whose knowledge of the sex was pretty accurate.

Mr. Kybird nodded gloomily. “’Melia and Jack don’t seem to ’ave been ’itting it off partikler well lately,” he said, slowly.  “He’s getting more uppish than wot ’e was when ’e come here first.  But I got ’im to promise that he’d settle any money that ’e might ever get left him on ’Melia.”

Mr. Smith’s inscrutable eyes glistened into something as nearly approaching a twinkle as they were capable.  “That’ll settle the five ‘undred,” he said, warmly.  “Are you goin’ to send Cap’n Nugent an invite for the wedding?”

[Illustration:  “Are you goin’ to send Cap’n Nugent an invite for the wedding?”]

“They’ll ‘ave to be asked, o’ course,” said Mr. Kybird, with an attempt at dignity, rendered necessary by a certain lightness in his friend’s manner.  “The old woman don’t like the Nugent lot, but she’ll do the proper thing.”

“O’ course she will,” said Mr. Smith, soothingly.  “Come over and ’ave a drink with me, Dan’l it’s your turn to stand.”