“Yes, they're pretty good,” said Mr. Jobling, much gratified by her approval.
“Beautiful,” murmured the girl. “What a thing it is to have money!” she said, wistfully.
“I could do with some,” said Mr. Jobling, with jocularity. He helped himself to bread and butter and began to discuss money and how to spend it. His ideas favored retirement and a nice little place in the country.
“I wonder you don't do it,” said the girl, softly.
Mr. Jobling laughed. “Gingell and Watson don't pay on those lines,” he said. “We do the work and they take the money.”
“It's always the way,” said the girl, indignantly; “they have all the luxuries, and the men who make the money for them all the hardships. I seem to know the name Gingell and Watson. I wonder where I've seen it?”
“In the paper, p'r'aps,” said Mr. Jobling.
“Advertising?” asked the girl.
Mr. Jobling shook his head. “Robbery,” he replied, seriously. “It was in last week's paper. Somebody got to the safe and got away with nine hundred pounds in gold and bank-notes.”
“I remember now,” said the girl, nodding, “Did they catch them?”