Timson. [Faintly waving the brushes.] Of course, if you can’t afford it, I don’t press you—­it’s only that I feel I’m not doing meself justice. [Confidentially.] There’s just one thing, sir; I can’t bear to see a gen’leman imposed on.  That foreigner—­’e’s not the sort to ’ave about the place.  Talk?  Oh! ah!  But ’e’ll never do any good with ’imself.  He’s a alien.

Wellwyn.  Terrible misfortune to a fellow, Timson.

Timson.  Don’t you believe it, sir; it’s his fault I says to the young lady yesterday:  Miss Ann, your father’s a gen’leman [with a sudden accent of hoarse sincerity], and so you are—­I don’t mind sayin’ it—­but, I said, he’s too easy-goin’.

Wellwyn.  Indeed!

Timson.  Well, see that girl now! [He shakes his head.] I never did believe in goin’ behind a person’s back—­I’m an Englishman—­but [lowering his voice] she’s a bad hat, sir.  Why, look at the street she comes from!

Wellwyn.  Oh! you know it.

Timson.  Lived there meself larst three years.  See the difference a few days’ corn’s made in her.  She’s that saucy you can’t touch ’er head.

Wellwyn.  Is there any necessity, Timson?

Timson.  Artful too.  Full o’ vice, I call’er.  Where’s ’er ’usband?

Wellwyn. [Gravely.] Come, Timson!  You wouldn’t like her to——­

Timson. [With dignity, so that the bottle in his pocket is plainly visible.] I’m a man as always beared inspection.

Wellwyn. [With a well-directed smile.] So I see.

Timson. [Curving himself round the bottle.] It’s not for me to say nothing—­but I can tell a gen’leman as quick as ever I can tell an ’orse.

Wellwyn. [Painting.] I find it safest to assume that every man is a gentleman, and every woman a lady.  Saves no end of self-contempt.  Give me the little brush.

Timson. [Handing him the brush—­after a considerable introspective pause.] Would yer like me to stay and wash it for yer again? [With great resolution.] I will—­I’ll do it for you—­never grudged workin’ for a gen’leman.

Wellwyn. [With sincerity.] Thank you, Timson—­very good of you, I’m sure. [He hands him back the brush.] Just lend us a hand with this. [Assisted by Timson he pushes back the dais.] Let’s see!  What do I owe you?

Timson. [Reluctantly.] It so ’appens, you advanced me to-day’s yesterday.

Wellwyn.  Then I suppose you want to-morrow’s?

Timson.  Well, I ‘ad to spend it, lookin’ for a permanent job.  When you’ve got to do with ’orses, you can’t neglect the publics, or you might as well be dead.

Wellwyn.  Quite so!

Timson.  It mounts up in the course o’ the year.

Wellwyn.  It would. [Passing him a coin.] This is for an exceptional purpose—­Timson—­see.  Not——­