"Not one drop more do yer get," he reiterated. "Eustace 'as been gettin' that fed up, I've been expectin' 'im to give me a month's notice any minute. An' nice we'd look if 'e started playin' monkey tricks on 'is own. All this beer business, you know; it ain't what 'e's been brought up to."
"'E can't do nothin', not without you tells 'im," said Bill, with a certainty he was far from feeling.
"Ah, an' 'ow do we know that? 'E might break loose an' then where'd we be? I've fair got the wind up, I tell yer. What we wanted to do is to 'umor the blighter."
"'Ow?"
"I dunno. 'Ow'd it be to give 'im something to do as 'e'd really enjoy—a decent job just to put 'im in a good temper again?"
"Buildin' palaces was 'is old line," mused Bill.
"Aye, but buildin' palaces 'ere would be just a blighted waste o' time," replied Alf, with strong common sense. "Can't you think o' nothin' else?"
Bill pondered deeply.
"Tell 'im," he suggested at last, "to bring us a girl. I'm fair sick for the sight of a pretty face."