“Done with you,” said the other.
“No doubt you'll soon get something to do,” continued Mr. Kybird, more in answer to his wife's inquiring glances than anything else. “Half a crown every Saturday and the room's yours.”
Mr. Nugent thanked him, and after making a tea which caused Mr. Kybird to congratulate himself upon the fact that he hadn't offered to board him, sat regaling Mrs. Kybird and daughter with a recital of his adventures in Australia, receiving in return a full and true account of Sunwich and its people up to date.
“There's no pride about 'im, that's what I like,” said Mrs. Kybird to her lord and master as they sat alone after closing time over a glass of gin and water. “He's a nice young feller, but bisness is bisness, and s'pose you don't get your rent?”
“I shall get it sooner or later,” said Mr. Kybird. “That stuck-up father of 'is 'll be in a fine way at 'im living here. That's wot I'm thinking of.”
“I don't see why,” said Mrs. Kybird, bridling. “Who's Captain Nugent, I should like to know? We're as good as what 'e is, if not better. And as for the gell, if she'd got 'alf Amelia's looks she'd do.”
“'Melia's a fine-looking gal,” assented Mr. Kybird. “I wonder——”
He laid his pipe down on the table and stared at the mantelpiece. “He seems very struck with 'er,” he concluded. “I see that directly.”
“Not afore I did,” said his wife, sharply.
“See it afore you come into the shop,” said Mr. Kybird, triumphantly. “It 'ud be a strange thing to marry into that family, Emma.”