"Glad to know you, sir—not one of us—not in the profession, I think?"
"No—er—no," responded Chetwynd feebly.
"And the 'appier you, take my tip for it. The wear and tear of the 'alls, sir, no one but a pro can estimate."
Here his wife, an over-dressed, showy individual a shade more of a cockney than himself, interposed with a coarse laugh.
"Get along, you jolly old humbug, you! You couldn't live away from them—could he, dear?" addressing Saidie, who was maliciously enjoying the effect that their sudden entrance had produced upon her brother-in-law and his friend.
"Ah; you think so, d'ye? that's all you know about it. Give me a nice quiet 'public' with a hold-established trade and me and the missis cosy-like in the private bar; that's the life for yours truly when he can take the farewell ben."
"How soon are your friends going to take their leave, Bella?" asked Chetwynd in an undertone to his wife.
But Bella turned her back upon him without deigning to give him so much as a word.
"I think I had the pleasure of seeing you perform the other night, Mrs. Doss," remarked Mr. Meynell.
"Don't she look a figger in tights? now tell the truth and shame the old gentleman: a female as fat as my wife ought not never to leave off her petticoats, that's what I says."