“No,” said Matt gruffly, “it ain’t.”
“Then it’s bank-bills,” said the lady mysteriously, as she slily winked at everyone in turn, her husband smiling at her acute business perceptions.
“No, nor it ain’t them neither,” said Matt.
“Then it’s a will,” said Mrs Gross in a disappointed tone; “and there ain’t a scrap of that sort in the place, for I sold out last week.”
“’Tain’t a will, I tell you,” growled Matt.
“Then it’s dockymens,” said Mrs Gross triumphantly, and she nudged Matt in the side.
“No it ain’t; nor receipts, nor letters, nor nothing of the kind. If you must know, it’s them old doctor’s books; that’s what it is. Now, where are they?”
But Mrs Gross, though she had not the slightest idea as to what doctor’s books were meant, was not yet satisfied, but cried:
“Halves!”
“What’s halves?” said Matt.