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——­

Timson. [Touching his forehead.] Certainly, sir.  I quite understand.  I’m not that sort, as I think I’ve proved to yer, comin’ here regular day after day, all the week.  There’s one thing, I ought to warn you perhaps—­I might ’ave to give this job up any day.

     [He makes a faint demonstration with the little brush, then puts
     it, absent-mindedly, into his pocket.]

Wellwyn. [Gravely.] I’d never stand in the way of your bettering yourself, Timson.  And, by the way, my daughter spoke to a friend about you to-day.  I think something may come of it.

Timson.  Oh!  Oh!  She did!  Well, it might do me a bit o’ good. [He makes for the outer door, but stops.] That foreigner!  ’E sticks in my gizzard.  It’s not as if there wasn’t plenty o’ pigeons for ’im to pluck in ’is own Gawd-forsaken country.  Reg-lar jay, that’s what I calls ’im.  I could tell yer something——­