"Forty pounds!" he said to his wife, after the official had departed.
"Why didn't 'e offer me a bag o' sweets?"

"It's a lot o' money," said Mrs. Scutts, wistfully.

"So's a thousand," said her husband. "I ain't going to 'ave my back
broke for nothing, I can tell you. Now, you keep that mouth o' yours
shut, and if I get it, you shall 'ave a new pair o' boots."

"A thousand!" exclaimed the startled Mrs. Scutts. "Have you took leave
of your senses, or what?"

"I read a case in the paper where a man got it," said Mr. Scutts. "He
'ad his back 'urt too, pore chap. How would you like to lay on your
back all your life for a thousand pounds?"

"Will you 'ave to lay abed all your life?" inquired his wife, staring.

"Wait till I get the money," said Mr. Scutts; "then I might be able to
tell you better."

He gazed wistfully at the window. It was late October, but the sun
shone and the air was clear. The sound of traffic and cheerful voices
ascended from the little street. To Mr. Scutts it all seemed to be a
part of a distant past.

"If that chap comes round to-morrow and offers me five hundred," he
said, slowly, "I don't know as I won't take it. I'm sick of this mouldy
bed."