Mr. Billing rose. "Ho, is there?" he said, grimly, as he removed his coat and proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves. "I'll learn 'em. I'll give 'em something to wait for. I'll——"
His voice died away as he saw the triumph in his wife's face, and, drawing down his sleeves again, he took up his coat and stood eyeing her in genuine perplexity.
"Tell 'em I've gorn," he said, at last.
"And what about telling lies?" demanded his wife. "What would your Mr. Purnip say to that?"
"You do as you're told," exclaimed the harassed Mr. Billing. "I'm not going to tell 'em; it's you."
Mrs. Billing returned to the parlour, and, with Mr. Billing lurking in the background, busied herself over a china flower-pot that stood in the window, and turned an anxious eye upon three men waiting outside. After a glance or two she went to the door.
"Did you want to see my husband?" she inquired.
The biggest of the three nodded. "Yus," he said, shortly.
"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Billing, "but he 'ad to go early this morning. Was it anything partikler?"
"Gorn?" said the other, in disappointed tones. "Well, you tell 'im I'll see 'im later on."