"I ain't got a mark on me," said Mr. Gibbs with a satisfied air, "or a
blemish. My skin is as whi--"

"That's enough about your skin," interrupted Mr. Kidd, rudely.

"If you ain't all of you gone before I count ten," said Mrs. Gibbs, in a
suppressed voice, "I'll scream. 'Ow dare you come into a respectable
woman's place and talk about your skins? Are you going? One! Two!
Three! Four! Five!"

Her voice rose with each numeral; and Mr. Gibbs himself led the way
downstairs, and, followed by his friends, slipped nimbly round the
corner.

"It's a wonder she didn't rouse the whole 'ouse," he said, wiping his
brow on his sleeve; "and where should we ha' been then? I thought at the
time it was a mistake you making me 'ave my whiskers off, but I let you
know best. She's never seen me without 'em. I 'ad a remarkable strong
growth when I was quite a boy. While other boys was--"

"Shut-up!" vociferated Mr. Kidd.

"Sha'n't!" said Mr. Gibbs, defiantly. "I've 'ad enough of being away
from my comfortable little 'ome and my wife; and I'm going to let 'em
start growing agin this very night. She'll never reckernize me without
'em, that's certain."

"He's right, Bob," said Mr. Brown, with conviction.