THE LAST ARAB! A N Nf I G H T 507

"Yes, I did, Mr. Smeeth. It's all right."

"You're through then, eh?"

"All I can do to-night, Mr. Smeeth. One or two tilings
I've had to leave till to-morrow morning—couldn't help
it."

"Quite so/' said Mr. Smeeth, taking out his pipe and
pouch, "Well, I don't think there'll be much fear of
you not turning up here to-morrow morning, what do
you say? Pay day, eh, Turgis? That's one of the days
we don't like to miss."

Turgis smiled faintly. "No, I'll be sure not to miss
that, Mr. Smeeth. You can count on me for that."

"It's as well we can count on somebody for something
these days," Mr. Smeeth remarked jocularly, "Well, you
can get away now, Turgis—you, too, Miss Matfield, of
course—and I'll see you in the morning.15

"That's right," said Turgis. But as he was taking
down his hat and coat, he said to himself, for no par-
ticular reason: "How does he know he'll see me in the
morning? He doesn't want to be so jolly sure about it."
Then as he was putting his overcoat on, he looked across
at Smeeth, who was now lighting his pipe, and said to
himself: "Old Smeethy there, with his eyeglasses and his
pipe and his nice clean collar every day and his nice
home with his wife and kids and his walk round to the
bank with his seven or eight quid a week, he's all right
and he deserves it, for all his fussing about, 'cos he's
not a bad old stick. But he's a bit ot a dreary devil for
all that, and he thinks everything's settled the way it
is with him, and he knows no more really about what's
going on than an old charwoman. Still, if I got on a bit
and Lena married me and we'd a nice little home the
same as his, I'd like to ask him in sometimes with his