“Sixpence!” I ses.  “Sixpence!” Wot do you think is going to ’appen to me when I go ’ome?”

“Oh, I ‘adn’t thought o’ that,” he ses.  “Yes, o’ course.”

“Wot about my wife’s jealousy?” I ses.  “Wot about the other, and her ’usband, a cooper as big as a ’ouse?”

“Well, well,” he ses, “one can’t think of everything.  It’ll be all the same a hundred years hence.”

“Look ’ere,” I ses, taking ’is shoulder in a grip of iron.  “You come back with me now in that cab and explain.  D’ye see?  That’s wot you’ve got to do.”

“All right,” he ses; “certainly.  Is—­is the husband bad-tempered?”

“You’ll see,” I ses; “but that’s your business.  Come along.”

“With pleasure,” he ses, ’elping me in. “‘Arf a mo’ while I tell the cabby where to drive to.”

He went to the back o’ the cab, and afore I knew wot had ’appened the ’orse had got a flick over the head with the whip and was going along at a gallop.  I kept putting the little flap up and telling the cabby to stop, but he didn’t take the slightest notice.  Arter I’d done it three times he kept it down so as I couldn’t open it.

There was a crowd round my door when the cab drove up, and in the middle of it was my missis, the woman next door, and ’er husband, wot ’ad just come ’ome.  ’Arf a dozen of ’em helped me out, and afore I could say a word the cabman drove off and left me there.

I dream of it now sometimes:  standing there explaining and explaining, until, just as I feel I can’t bear it any longer, two policemen come up and ’elp me indoors.  If they had ’elped my missis outside it would be a easier dream to have.