“But haven’t you got it written down?”
“What do you take me for?” asked Tony. “A tradesman? A bookkeeper? Unless Polly——”
“You told me the other Christmas that you averaged twenty-five,” said Duke bitterly, “and I paid you one week’s takings by way of douceur.”
“Well, then you do know my weekly takings,” said Tony loftily.
“I can’t stay here for ever,” put in Jinny. “I’ve got my work.”
“I’m paying you, ain’t I?” Tony rebuked her.
“But not giving me work.” She assumed a judicial air. “Do you, Mr. Flippance, maintain that your theatre is a more valuable concern than Mr. Duke’s marionettes?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then,” said the young Solomon in petticoats, “surely if you get it back, you ought to pay him the difference in value.”
“Bravo! Bravo!” Mr. Duke’s little pig-eyes gleamed. “A sensible girl!”