Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.

by B. L. Farjeon

Mrs. Naldret expresses her satisfaction at this result by saying that 'it's a good job for his family, if he's got one.'

'Why shouldn't a working-man be in Parliament, mother?' asks Jim Naldret.

'Because he can't be two things at once. If he fuddles away all his time at Parliament, he can't have time to work; and if he don't work for his living, he's not a workingman.'

'He'd work with his tongue, mother.'

'He'd better work with his hands,' says Mrs. Naldret emphatically, 'and leave the tongue work to his wife. She'd do it better, I'll be bound.'

'I've no doubt she would,' says Jim Naldret, with a chuckle. 'But that working-man in Parliament question is a problem.'

'Well, don't you bother your head about it--that's other people's business. My old mother used to say that every hen's got enough to do to look after its own chicks, and it clacks enough over that, goodness knows.'

'But I'm not a hen, mother,' remonstrates Jim; 'I'm a cock, and I like to have a crow now and then.'

'Well,' exclaims Mrs. Naldret, stitching viciously, 'crow on your own dunghill. Don't you go encroaching on other people's premises.'