"D'ye think I've gone mad, or what?" inquired the amazed Mr. Tasker.
"What d'ye think I should want to buy clothes for your young'uns for?
That's your duty. And Selina, too; I haven't given 'er anything except a
ring, and she lent me the money for that. D'ye think I'm made o' money?"

"All right, Joseph," said Mr. Vickers, secretly incensed at this
unforeseen display of caution on Mr. Tasker's part. "I s'pose the
fairies come and put'em on while they was asleep. But it's dry work
walking; 'ave you got such a thing as a glass o' water you could give
me?"

The other took a glass from the dresser and, ignoring the eye of his
prospective father-in-law, which was glued to a comfortable-looking
barrel in the corner, filled it to the brim with fair water and handed it
to him. Mr. Vickers, giving him a surly nod, took a couple of dainty
sips and placed it on the table.

"It's very nice water," he said, sarcastically.

"Is it?" said Mr. Tasker. "We don't drink it ourselves, except in tea or
coffee; the cap'n says it ain't safe."

Mr. Vickers brought his eye from the barrel and glared at him.

"I s'pose, Joseph," he said, after a long pause, during which Mr. Tasker
was busy making up the fire--"I s'pose Selina didn't tell you you wasn't
to tell me about the money?"

"I don't know what you're driving at," said the other, confronting him