"Eh, Jenny?" said Pa, staring back at her. "Ain't you gone out? Is it
Emmy that's gone out? What did that fool Alf Rylett want? He was
shouting.... I heard him."

"Yes, Pa; but you shouldn't have listened," rebuked Jenny, with a fine
colour.

Pa shook his shaggy head. He felt cunningly for his empty tankard,
hoping that it had been refilled by his benevolent genius. It was not
until the full measure of his disappointment had been revealed that he
answered her.

"I wasn't listening," he quavered. "I didn't hear what he said.... Did
Emmy go out with him?"

"Yes, Pa. To the theatre. Alf brought tickets. Tickets! Tickets for
seats.... Oh, dear! _Why_ can't you understand! Didn't have to pay at
the door...."

Pa suddenly understood.

"Oh ah!" he said. "Didn't have to pay...." There was a pause. "That's
like Alf Rylett," presently added Pa. Jenny sat looking at him in
consternation at such an uncharitable remark.

"It's not!" she cried. "I never _knew_ you were such a wicked old man!"

Pa gave an antediluvian chuckle that sounded like a magical and
appalling rattle from the inner recesses of his person. He was getting