MR. SMEETH IS WORRIED 467

the time when I've brought them things 'ome, proper
old sailor style. Yus, I have. If yer don't believe me,
ask the pleece; they know everything there is to know,
isn't that so, sergeant?"

Mr. Smeeth discovered that an acquaintance of his, a
Stoke Newington man and a very good hand at a whist
drive, Sergeant Gailey, of the local division, had strolled
up. "Now then, Mr. Lee, telling lies again! Dear, dear,
dear! Oh, it's you, Mr. Smeeth, is it? You're the victim
this time.'*

"That'll do, sergeant/7 retorted Mr. Lee amiably, "yer
only giving away your ignorance. Yer've seen nothing
yet, and I don't think yer ever will now. Good after-
noon/' And off he toddled.

"You know him, don't you, Mr. Smeeth?" said
Sergeant Gailey. "Oh, he's a rum old devil. Keeps a
second-hand shop—furniture and curios and all that
stuff—down by the Green. His daughter runs it now,
but it's his shop, and he's better off than you'd think,
that old devil is. Won't part with nothing, you know, but
his reminiscences and good advice. He's a character."

"When he started, I thought he was going to try and
cadge a bob," said Mr. Smeeth, moving away slowly
with the sergeant.

"He'd have it all right if you offered it him, though
he could buy you and me up, Mr. Smeeth, a good many
times. But how are you getting on, these days? Here,
what's the name of that boy of yours?"

"You mean George?"

"That's right. George Smeeth, Chaucer Road-eh? 1
saw the name a day or two ago, and thought it must be
that boy of yours, We're having him up at the North
London next week, Tuesday, I think/'