“What were you fined for?” asked Peter.
“For bein’ open on Sunday.”
“Then you ought to be fined.”
“Don’t say that till Oi tell yez. Oi don’t want to keep my place open, but it’s in my lease, an’ so Oi have to.”
“In your lease?” enquired Peter.
“Yes.” And the paper was handed over to him.
Peter ran over the three documents. “I see,” he said, “you are only the caretaker really, the brewer having an assignment of the lease and a chattel mortgage on your fixtures and stock.”
“That’s it,” said Dennis. “It’s mighty quick yez got at it. It’s caretaker Oi am, an’ a divil of a care it is. Shure, who wants to work seven days a week, if he can do wid six?”
“You should have declined to agree to that condition?”
“Then Oi’d have been turned out. Begobs, it’s such poor beer that it’s little enough Oi sell even in seven days.”