“Don’t be alarmed, my lad,” he said, benevolently.  “Selina’s all right.”

“What d’ye want?” repeated Mr. Tasker.  “Who told you to come round here?”

Mr. Vickers looked at him in reproachful surprise.

“I suppose a father can come round to see his future son-in-law?” he said, with some dignity.  “I don’t want to do no interrupting of your work, Joseph, but I couldn’t ’elp just stepping round to tell you how nice they all looked.  Where you got the money from I can’t think.”

“Have you gone dotty, or what?” demanded Mr. Tasker, who was busy wiping out a saucepan.  “Who looked nice?”

Mr. Vickers shook his head at him and smiled waggishly.

“Ah! who? “he said, with much enjoyment.  “I tell you it did my father’s ’art good to see ’em all dressed up like that; and when I thought of its all being owing to you, sit down at home in comfort with a pipe instead of coming to thank you for it I could not.  Not if you was to have paid me I couldn’t.”

“Look ’ere,” said Mr. Tasker, putting the saucepan down with a bang, “if you can’t talk plain, common English you’d better get out.  I don’t want you ‘ere at all as a matter o’ fact, but to have you sitting there shaking your silly ‘ead and talking a pack o’ nonsense is more than I can stand.”

Mr. Vickers gazed at him in perplexity.  “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t been giving my Selina money to buy new clothes for the young’uns?” he demanded, sharply.  “Do you mean to tell me that Selina didn’t get money out of you to buy herself and ’er mother and all of ’em—­ except me—­a new rig-out from top to toe?”

“D’ye think I’ve gone mad, or what?” inquired the amazed Mr. Tasker.  “What d’ye think I should want to buy clothes for your young’uns for?  That’s your duty.  And Selina, too; I haven’t given ’er anything except a ring, and she lent me the money for that.  D’ye think I’m made o’ money?”

“All right, Joseph,” said Mr. Vickers, secretly incensed at this unforeseen display of caution on Mr. Tasker’s part.  “I s’pose the fairies come and put’em on while they was asleep.  But it’s dry work walking; ‘ave you got such a thing as a glass o’ water you could give me?”

The other took a glass from the dresser and, ignoring the eye of his prospective father-in-law, which was glued to a comfortable-looking barrel in the corner, filled it to the brim with fair water and handed it to him.  Mr. Vickers, giving him a surly nod, took a couple of dainty sips and placed it on the table.

“It’s very nice water,” he said, sarcastically.

“Is it?” said Mr. Tasker.  “We don’t drink it ourselves, except in tea or coffee; the cap’n says it ain’t safe.”

Mr. Vickers brought his eye from the barrel and glared at him.

“I s’pose, Joseph,” he said, after a long pause, during which Mr. Tasker was busy making up the fire—­“I s’pose Selina didn’t tell you you wasn’t to tell me about the money?”