“’Eaven ’elps them what ’elps themselves, don’t forget, Joe,” was Mr. Dobb’s pious reply.
Impatiently Mr. Tridge rose again to his feet and stalked to the door. Again Mr. Dobb invited him to return to his seat and tarry longer.
“I don’t say as I won’t ’elp you to ’elp yourself, Joe,” observed Mr. Dobb. “In fact, if you only wouldn’t be so ’asty, and would listen to what I ’ave to say, you might feel sorry for all the things you’re trying to think of to say about me as you stands there.”
Mr. Tridge, with a demeanor nicely balanced between resentment and humility, once more sat down.
“I ain’t forgot ’ow you’re situated, Joe,” said Mr. Dobb, gently. “I’ve bore you in mind constant. And I’ve been waiting for you to come and see me these last few days. I got a little matter to put before you, Joe, what ought to be good for twenty quid at least, if you cares to tackle it.”
“Why didn’t you mention it before?” asked Mr. Tridge, suspiciously.
“Well, I wasn’t quite sure ’ow you’d take it,” returned Mr. Dobb. “You see, there—there’s a certain amount of disgrace about it.”
“If it brings in twenty quid,” said Mr. Tridge, frankly, “I shan’t think it disgraceful, whatever it is.”
“And—and there’s a certain amount of suffering,” added Mr. Dobb, watching his friend narrowly.
“Once I get me fingers on the twenty quid, I shall soon stop suffering,” asserted Mr. Tridge, cheerfully.