"Thankee," ses Bob Pretty. "I on'y 'ope I sha'n't get my face knocked
about like yours 'as been, that's all; 'cos my wife's so partikler."

"Wot d'ye mean?" ses Mr. Cutts, turning on him. "My face ain't been
knocked about."

"Oh, I beg your pardin," ses Bob; "I didn't know it was natural."

Mr. Cutts went black in the face a'most and stared at Bob Pretty as if 'e
was going to eat 'im, and Bob stared back, looking fust at the keeper's
nose and then at 'is eyes and mouth, and then at 'is nose agin.

"You'll know me agin, I s'pose?" ses Mr. Cutts, at last.

"Yes," ses Bob, smiling; "I should know you a mile off--on the darkest
night."

"We shall see," ses Mr. Cutts, taking up 'is beer and turning 'is back on
him. "Those of us as live the longest'll see the most."

"I'm glad I've lived long enough to see 'im," ses Bob to Bill Chambers.
"I feel more satisfied with myself now."

Bill Chambers coughed, and Mr. Cutts, arter finishing 'is beer, took
another look at Bob Pretty, and went off boiling a'most.

The trouble he took to catch Bob Pretty arter that you wouldn't believe,
and all the time the game seemed to be simply melting away, and Squire
Rockett was finding fault with 'im all day long. He was worn to a
shadder a'most with watching, and Bob Pretty seemed to be more prosperous