"The rector preached the sermon," continued his wife; "a beautiful sermon it was, too. I wish you'd been there to hear it; I should 'ave enjoyed it ever so much better. He said that nobody was more surprised than what 'e was at your doing such a thing, and that it only showed 'ow little we knowed our fellow-creatures. He said that it proved there was good in all of us if we only gave it a chance to come out."
Mr. Blows eyed her suspiciously, but she sat thinking and staring at the floor.
"I s'pose we shall have to give the money back now," she said, at last.
"Money!" said the other; "what money?"
"Money that was collected for us," replied his wife. "One 'undered and eighty-three pounds seven shillings and fourpence."
Mr. Blows took a long breath. "Ow much?" he said, faintly; "say it agin."
His wife obeyed.
"Show it to me," said the other, in trembling tones; "let's 'ave a look at it. Let's 'old some of it."
"I can't," was the reply; "there's a committee of the Camels took charge of it, and they pay my rent and allow me ten shillings a week. Now I s'pose it'll have to be given back?"
"Don't you talk nonsense," said Mr. Blows, violently. "You go to them interfering Camels and say you want your money—all of it. Say you're going to Australia. Say it was my last dying wish."