* * * * *
"Where you gointer, you George?" demanded the missus, as George prepared to leave us.
"Goin' to find that fat-'eaded boy, my dear," responded George. "There's a barrel wants tappin'."
"There's a lot more than barrels wants tappin' in this 'ouse," said Mistress Huggins, with an air which was evidently intended to be significant of much. "What you done with that gel?"
"Me, my dear?" responded the fist-strong Huggins. "Me? I ain't moved 'er."
"Time you did, then. When's she gointer leave this 'ouse?"
'Ost 'Uggins gently but firmly retreated. "I bin discussin' it over with the doctor, my dear," he explained, upon gaining the little glass door which led into their private parlour. "'E'll tell you all about it. That's right, ain't it, Doctor? You'll tell 'er all about it. Don't forget my motter, Doctor." And Mr. Huggins obliterated himself.
Mrs. Huggins, upon the contrary, and as it might be, intensified herself. "Look here, Doctor What-its-name," she said, "I kin spot the little game what is bein' played between the landlord an' you, same's if I was partner. You are gettin' up a conspiracy. See? I know it. I can't be fooled."
Mrs. Muggins was a mud-coloured woman, with a smouldering eye. She had rings on every finger and more knuckles than rings.
"I can't be fooled!" she repeated. "What you doin' with that gel?"