"Not wi' she. Leave 'em wi' Mrs. Cann to the post office. You come this evening, and I'll give ye the keys."

"All right," said George. "But you know I don't approve of your going after having been left in charge."

"If I don't go, Robert will, and he ain't going home without me," said Bessie. "I wouldn't like leaving if Kezia wur here, vor I'd dread her selling some of my things; but Robert ha' told the volks the house belongs to you, so there's no fear of any one breaking in, unless it be the Brocks. Policeman ha' promised to keep his eye on them."

George went on to punish the baker, who had succeeded with grievous pangs in handing over three sovereigns, but had failed in his endeavour to part with the fourth. Dyer affirmed Robert had lied, by no means for the first time; but, when George threatened to call the Mudges that they might give evidence upon oath, Dyer admitted it was just possible the missing coin might have slipped through a hole in his pocket; so he called his wife to light a candle and to sweep the floor. The elusive piece of gold, however, had passed entirely out of vision, although neither of the Dyers could feel surprised at that; the lady declaring it was wonderful how easily things lost themselves; while her husband said he had done nothing except drop money all his life.

"Very well, Mrs. Dyer," said George. "When you make up my bill for lodgings and bread puddings, just remember that you owe me a pound."

"You wouldn't think of such a thing. You'm too much of a gentleman," cried Mrs. Dyer.

"The missus fancies you meant it, sir. She ain't very humorous," explained the baker.

George had a trick of nodding after supper, and that evening he did not wake until it was nearly time to sleep more seriously. Remembering that Bessie would be sitting up to surrender the keys, he hurried out; but when he entered Windward House modestly by the back door—hoping to overhear some scraps of conversation—the house appeared deserted, until he pushed open the kitchen door, to discover the Wallower in Wealth sipping a cup of something hot beside the fire.

"Where are the Mudges?" cried George.

"Where's my musical box?" retorted the man in possession.