“Wrong?” ses Joe; “nothing.”

Bill Jones put it down agin.  “You’re wide awake, Joe,” he ses, “but so am I.”

“Won’t nobody give me a ha’penny for it?” ses Joe, looking round.

Then Peter Lamb came up, and he looked at it and rang it, and at last he gave Joe a ha’penny for it and took it round, and everybody ’ad a look at it.

[Illustration:  “He took it round, and everybody ’ad a look at it.”]

“It stands to reason it’s a bad ’un,” ses Bill Jones, “but it’s so well done I wish as I’d bought it.”

“H-s-h!” ses Peter Lamb; “don’t let the landlord ’ear you.”

The landlord ’ad just that moment come in, and Peter walked up and ordered a pint, and took his ten-pence change as bold as brass.  Arter that Joe Barbcomb bought five more ha’pennies afore you could wink a’most, and every man wot sold one went up to the bar and ’ad a pint and got tenpence change, and drank Joe Barlcomb’s health.

“There seems to be a lot o’ money knocking about to-night,” ses the landlord, as Sam Martin, the last of ’em, was drinking ’is pint.

Sam Martin choked and put ’is pot down on the counter with a bang, and him and the other five was out o’ that door and sailing up the road with their tenpences afore the landlord could get his breath.  He stood to the bar scratching his ’ead and staring, but he couldn’t understand it a bit till a man wot was too late to sell his ha’penny up and told ’im all about it.  The fuss ’e made was terrible.  The shillings was in a little heap on a shelf at the back o’ the bar, and he did all sorts o’ things to ’em to prove that they was bad, and threatened Joe Barlcomb with the police.  At last, however, ’e saw wot a fool he was making of himself, and arter nearly breaking his teeth ’e dropped them into a drawer and stirred ’em up with the others.

Joe Barlcomb went round the next night to see Mrs. Prince, and she asked ‘im a lot o’ questions about the men as ’ad sold ’im the ha’pennies.

“The fust part ’as been done very well,” she ses, nodding her ’ead at ’im; “if you do the second part as well, you’ll soon know who your enemy is.”

“Nothing’ll bring the pig back,” ses Joe.

“There’s worse misfortunes than that, as I’ve told you,” ses Mrs. Prince, sharply.  “Now, listen to wot I’m going to say to you.  When the clock strikes twelve to-night——­”

“Our clock don’t strike,” ses Joe.

“Then you must borrow one that does,” ses Mrs. Prince, “and when it strikes twelve you must go round to each o’ them six men and sell them a ha’penny for a shilling.”

Joe Barlcomb looked at ’er. “’Ow?” he ses, short-like.

“Same way as you sold ’em a shilling for a ha’-penny,” ses Mrs. Prince; “it don’t matter whether they buy the ha’pennies or not.  All you’ve got to do is to go and ask ’em, and the man as makes the most fuss is the man that ’as put the trouble on you.”