ANGEL PAVEMENT

don't you turn round on me and tell me I don't know
that twelve pennies make a shilling or something of that
sort. It's your own doing, this time. I made up my
mind I wouldn't say a word. And if you think you can
do it all right, well and good; I'm glad."

"Of course I can do it," he told her, rather indig-
nantly. Then out it came. "Matter of fact I've got
that rise."

"You've not?"

"Yes, I have."

"How much?"

"I've been put up to three seventy-five, that's more
than a pound a week more than I've been getting." And
as he said it, Mr. Smeeth asked himself if he wasn't
behaving like a complete fool.

Mrs, Smeeth descended on him impetuously and gave
him a resounding kiss. "I knew there was something
coming," she cried jubilantly. "I told you about Mrs.
Dalby's sister, didn't I? She told me again that money
and good luck were coming through a stranger, a
middling-coloured man in a strange bed. And that was
this Mr. Golspie of yours, 111 bet. Nearly four hundred
a year, isn't it, now? That's something like. My
cousin, Fred Mitty, was boasting the other night about
what he could make sometimes, and now this will be
something to tell him to-niorrow night. And fancy
you just sitting there as if nothing had happened and
never saying a word! I never knew anybody so close,
you old oyster you! But that shows what they think
of you, doesn't it? And you always worrying about
your job and talking as if you were going to be out in
the street next minute!" She ran on and on, happy and
excited, while he filled his pipe and tried to appear very