sunlight.

By the end of a week his mind was made up. Each day that passed made
his hurried uprising and scrambled breakfast more and more irksome; and
on Monday morning, with hands in trouser-pockets and legs stretched out,
he leaned back in his chair and received his wife's alarming intimations
as to the flight of time with a superior and sphinx-like smile.

"It's too fine to go to work to-day," he said, lazily. "Come to that,
any day is too fine to waste at work."

Mrs. Gribble sat gasping at him.

"So on Saturday I gave 'em a week's notice," continued her husband, "and
after Potts and Co. had listened while I told 'em what I thought of 'em,
they said they'd do without the week's notice."

"You've never given up your job?" said Mrs. Gribble.

"I spoke to old Potts as one gentleman of independent means to another,"
said Mr. Gribble, smiling. "Thirty-five bob a week after twenty years'
service! And he had the cheek to tell me I wasn't worth that. When I
told him what he was worth he talked about sending for the police. What
are you looking like that for? I've worked hard for you for thirty
years, and I've had enough of it. Now it's your turn."

"You'd find it hard to get another place at your age," said his wife;
"especially if they wouldn't give you a good character."

"Place!" said the other, staring. "Place! I tell you I've done with