Mr. Spriggs, by a great effort, regained his self-control. “Will you go away if I give you a quid?” he asked, quietly.
“No,” said Mr. Price, with a placid smile. “I've got a better idea of the value of money than that. Besides, I want to see my dear niece, and see whether that young man's good enough for her.”
“Two quid?” suggested his brother-in-law. Mr. Price shook his head. “I couldn't do it,” he said, calmly. “In justice to myself I couldn't do it. You'll be feeling lonely when you lose Ethel, and I'll stay and keep you company.”
The bricklayer nearly broke out again; but, obeying a glance from his wife, closed his lips and followed her obediently upstairs. Mr. Price, filling his pipe from a paper of tobacco on the mantelpiece, winked at himself encouragingly in the glass, and smiled gently as he heard the chinking of coins upstairs.
“Be, careful about the size,” he said, as Mr. Spriggs came down and took his hat from a nail; “about a couple of inches shorter than yourself and not near so much round the waist.”
Mr. Spriggs regarded him sternly for a few seconds, and then, closing the door with a bang, went off down the street. Left alone, Mr. Price strolled about the room investigating, and then, drawing an easy-chair up to the fire, put his feet on the fender and relapsed into thought.
Two hours later he sat in the same place, a changed and resplendent being. His thin legs were hidden in light check trousers, and the companion waistcoat to Joseph's Coat graced the upper part of his body. A large chrysanthemum in the button-hole of his frock-coat completed the picture of an Australian millionaire, as understood by Mr. Spriggs.
“A nice watch and chain, and a little money in my pockets, and I shall be all right,” murmured Mr. Price.
“You won't get any more out o' me,” said Mr. Spriggs, fiercely. “I've spent every farthing I've got.”
“Except what's in the bank,” said his brother-in-law. “It'll take you a day or two to get at it, I know. S'pose we say Saturday for the watch and chain?”