“Does he help himself to any of the money?”
“Not a brass farthing! I do believe he buys his own postage-stamps when he writes home to his mamma!”
This last announcement was too comical to be received gravely.
“Ha, ha! he ought to be exhibited!” said Shanklin.
“He ought to be starved!” said Durfy viciously. “He knocked me down once, and I wouldn’t have told you of him if I didn’t owe him a grudge—the puppy!”
“Oh, well, I daresay you’ll be gratified some day or other,” said Medlock.
“I tell you one thing,” said Durfy; “you’d better put a stopper on his writing home too often; I believe he’s put his precious brother up to watch me. Why, the other night, when I was waiting for the postman to get hold of that letter you wanted, I’m blessed if he didn’t turn up and rout me out—he and a young chum of his brother’s that used to be in the swim with me. I don’t think they saw me, luckily; but it was a shave, and of course I missed the letter.”
“Yes, you did; there was no mistake about that!” said Mr Shanklin viciously. “When did you ever not miss it?”
“How can I help it, when it’s your own secretary is dogging me?”
“Bless you! think of him dogging any one, the innocent! Anyhow, we can cut off his letters home for a bit, so as to give you no excuse next time.”