Mr. Spriggs looked helplessly at his wife, but she avoided his gaze. He turned and gazed in a fascinated fashion at Mr. Price, and received a cheerful nod in return.
“I'll come with you and help choose it,” said the latter. “It'll save you trouble if it don't save your pocket.”
He thrust his hands in his trouser-pockets and, spreading his legs wide apart, tilted his head back and blew smoke to the ceiling. He was in the same easy position when Ethel arrived home accompanied by Mr. Potter.
“It's—it's your Uncle Gussie,” said Mrs. Spriggs, as the girl stood eying the visitor.
“From Australia,” said her husband, thickly.
Mr. Price smiled, and his niece, noticing that he removed his pipe and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, crossed over and kissed his eyebrow. Mr. Potter was then introduced and received a gracious reception, Mr. Price commenting on the extraordinary likeness he bore to a young friend of his who had just come in for forty thousand a year.
“That's nearly as much as you're worth, uncle, isn't it?” inquired Miss Spriggs, daringly.
Mr. Price shook his head at her and pondered. “Rather more,” he said, at last, “rather more.”
Mr. Potter caught his breath sharply; Mr. Spriggs, who was stooping to get a light for his pipe, nearly fell into the fire. There was an impressive silence.