"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.

"D'ye mean to tell me we've got to wait till 'is blasted whiskers grow?"
cried Mr. Kidd, almost dancing with fury. "And go on keeping 'im in
idleness till they do?"

"You'll get it all back out o' my share," said Mr. Gibbs, with dignity.