his wife. "As for Gladys, I'm sure nobody knows what she's given up."

"Well, if nobody knows, it don't matter," said Mr. Jobson. "As I was
saying, it's very kind of you all, but I can't wear 'em. Where's my
others?"

Mrs. Jobson hesitated.

"Where's my others?" repeated her husband.

"They're being took care of," replied his wife, with spirit. "Aunt
Emma's minding 'em for you--and you know what she is. H'sh! Alf! Alf!
I'm surprised at you!"

Mr. Jobson coughed. "It's the collar, mother," he said at last. "I
ain't wore a collar for over twenty years; not since we was walking out
together. And then I didn't like it."

"More shame for you," said his wife. "I'm sure there's no other
respectable tradesman goes about with a handkerchief knotted round his
neck."

"P'r'aps their skins ain't as tender as what mine is," urged Mr. Jobson;
"and besides, fancy me in a top-'at! Why, I shall be the laughing-stock
of the place."

"Nonsense!" said his wife. "It's only the lower classes what would
laugh, and nobody minds what they think."

Mr. Jobson sighed. "Well, I shall 'ave to go back to bed again, then,"