Mr. Kemp, prompted by a nudge in the ribs, assented. “It's wonderful how they took it all in about me,” he said; “but I feel certain in my own mind that I ought to chuck some money about.”
“Tell 'em of the money you have chucked about,” said Mr. Wright. “It'll do just as well, and come a good deal cheaper. And you had better go round alone to-morrow evening. It'll look better. Just go in for another one of their sixpenny cigars.”
Mr. Kemp obeyed, and the following evening, after sitting a little while chatting in the shop, was invited into the parlour, where, mindful of Mr. Wright's instructions, he held his listeners enthralled by tales of past expenditure. A tip of fifty pounds to his bedroom steward coming over was characterized by Mrs. Bradshaw as extravagant.
“Seems to be going all right,” said Mr. Wright, as the old man made his report; “but be careful; don't go overdoing it.”
Mr. Kemp nodded. “I can turn 'em round my little finger,” he said. “You'll have Bella all to yourself to-morrow evening.”
Mr. Wright flushed. “How did you manage that?” he inquired. “It's the first time she has ever been out with me alone.”
“She ain't coming out,” said Mr. Kemp. “She's going to stay at home and mind the shop; it's the mother what's coming out. Going to spend the evening with me!”
Mr. Wright frowned. “What did you do that for?” he demanded, hotly.
“I didn't do it,” said Mr. Kemp, equably; “they done it. The old lady says that, just for once in her life, she wants to see how it feels to spend money like water.”
“Money like water!” repeated the horrified Mr. Wright. “Money like— I'll 'money' her—I'll——”