boasted noisily of his exploit. Mr. Billing, suffering both mentally and
physically, walked slowly home to his astonished wife.

"P'r'aps he'll be ashamed of hisself when 'e comes to think it over," he
murmured, as Mrs. Billing, rendered almost perfect by practice,
administered first aid.

"I s'pect he's crying his eyes out," she said, with a sniff. "Tell me if
that 'urts."

Mr. Billing told her, then, suddenly remembering himself, issued an
expurgated edition.

"I'm sorry for the next man that 'its you," said his wife, as she drew
back and regarded her handiwork.

"'Well, you needn't be," said Mr. Billing, with dignity. "It would take
more than a couple o' props in the jaw to make me alter my mind when I've
made it up. You ought to know that by this time. Hurry up and finish.
I want you to go to the corner and fetch me a pot."

"What, ain't you going out agin?" demanded his astonished wife.

Mr. Billing shook his head. "Somebody else might want to give me one,"
he said, resignedly, "and I've 'ad about all I want to-night."

His face was still painful next morning, but as he sat at breakfast in
the small kitchen he was able to refer to Mr. Ricketts in terms which
were an eloquent testimony to Mr. Purnip's teaching. Mrs. Billing,
unable to contain herself, wandered off into the front room with a