"I'm not going out of this house without half-a-crown at any rate!" said
Denry, blithely.

And he rolled himself a cigarette, possibly to keep warm. It was very
chilly in the stuffy residence, but the old woman never shivered. She
was one of those old women who seem to wear all the skirts of all their
lives, one over the other.

"Ye're here for th' better part o' some time, then," observed Mrs
Hullins, looking facts in the face. "I've told you about my son Jack.
He's been playing [out of work] six weeks. He starts to-day, and he'll
gi'me summat Saturday."

"That won't do," said Denry, curtly and kindly.

He then, with his bluff benevolence, explained to Mother Hullins that
Mrs Codleyn would stand no further increase of arrears from anybody,
that she could not afford to stand any further increase of arrears, that
her tenants were ruining her, and that he himself, with all his cheery
good-will for the rent-paying classes, would be involved in her fall.

"Six-and-forty years have I been i' this 'ere house!" said Mrs Hullins.

"Yes, I know," said Denry. "And look at what you owe, mother!"

It was with immense good-humoured kindliness that he invited her
attention to what she owed. She tacitly declined to look at it.

"Your children ought to keep you," said Denry, upon her silence.