’So! now you’re dogging me into the country.  Be off; make an appointment.  Saturday’s my holiday.  You know that.’

Andrew pushed through the doorway, and, by way of an emphatic reply and a silencing one, delivered a punch slap into Old Tom’s belt.

‘Confound you, Nan!’ said Old Tom, grimacing, but friendly, as if his sympathies had been irresistibly assailed.

’It ‘s done, Tom!  I’ve done it.  Won my bet, now,’ Andrew exclaimed.  ’The women-poor creatures!  What a state they’re in.  I pity ’em.’

Old Tom pursed his lips, and eyed his brother incredulously, but with curious eagerness.

‘Oh, Lord! what a face I’ve had to wear!’ Andrew continued, and while he sank into a chair and rubbed his handkerchief over his crisp hair, Old Tom let loose a convinced and exulting, ‘ha! ha!’

‘Yes, you may laugh.  I’ve had all the bother,’ said Andrew.

‘Serve ye right—­marrying such cattle,’ Old Tom snapped at him.

‘They believe we’re bankrupt—­owe fifty thousand clear, Tom!’

‘Ha! ha!’

’Brewery stock and household furniture to be sold by general auction, Friday week.’

‘Ha! ha!’

’Not a place for any of us to poke our heads into.  I talked about “pitiless storms” to my poor Harry—­no shelter to be had unless we go down to Lymport, and stop with their brother in shop!’

Old Tom did enjoy this.  He took a great gulp of air for a tremendous burst of laughter, and when this was expended and reflection came, his features screwed, as if the acidest of flavours had ravished his palate.

’Bravo, Nan!  Didn’t think you were man enough.  Ha! ha!  Nan—­I say—­eh? how did ye get on behind the curtains?’

The tale, to guess by Andrew’s face, appeared to be too strongly infused with pathos for revelation.

‘Will they go, Nan, eh? d’ ye think they ‘ll go?’

’Where else can they go, Tom?  They must go there, or on the parish, you know.’

‘They’ll all troop down to the young tailor—­eh?’

‘They can’t sleep in the parks, Tom.’

’No.  They can’t get into Buckingham Palace, neither—­’cept as housemaids.  ’Gad, they’re howling like cats, I’d swear—­nuisance to the neighbourhood—­ha! ha!’

Old Tom’s cruel laughter made Andrew feel for the unhappy ladies.  He stuck his forehead, and leaned forward, saying:  ’I don’t know—­’pon my honour, I don’t know—­can’t think we’ve—­quite done right to punish ’em so.’

This acted like cold water on Old Tom’s delight.  He pitched it back in the shape of a doubt of what Andrew had told him.  Whereupon Andrew defied him to face three miserable women on the verge of hysterics; and Old Tom, beginning to chuckle again, rejoined that it would bring them to their senses, and emancipate him.

‘You may laugh, Mr. Tom,’ said Andrew; ’but if poor Harry should find me out, deuce a bit more home for me.’