A CHILD OF THE JAGO
was goin' to bring round pickles after the shop was shut? 'Oo said fourpence for door-mats?"
"Oh, I expect it's just a little mistake, that's all," answered Weech, making another motion toward the door; "an' I don't want to git nobody into trouble."
"Trouble? Nice trouble I'd be in if I sold brass smoke-jacks for a bob! There's somethink 'ere as I ought to know about. Tell me about it straight."
Weech looked thoughtfully at the oilman's top waistcoat button for a few seconds, and then said: "Yus, p'r'haps I better. I can feel for you, Mr. Grinder, 'avin' a feelin' 'art, an' bein' in business meself. Where's your boy?"
"Gawn out."
"Comin' back soon?"
"Not yut. Come in the back-parlour."
There Mr. Weech, with ingenuous reluctance, assured Mr. Grinder that
225
