When I came back George was still keeping open, but he looked at me very
wicked with his blue eyes and asked me from under the cotton-wool if I ever
intended to finish my ruddy little job.

I said, "Dear brother and oppressed fellow-striker, I regret that I cannot.
I see by _The Dentists' Daily_ that our Union has declared a sympathetic
strike with the Amalgamated Excavators and Theological Students. You have
my sympathy. I can no more."

George tried to persuade me as we went downstairs together, bumping our
heads on each step in turn, but it was of no avail.

I do not however regret my pious invention, as I hear that George is a
changed man. Being intelligent, he thought things over for himself, instead
of letting a man in a red tie do it for him, and after six weeks came to
the conclusion that a strike is a game that more than one can play at. He
strikes now only in his holidays. He never now forgets his tools or leaves
taps running. He does a good day's plumb for a good day's pay. And he sings
while he works. Strange to say that little tooth of his has given up
striking too.

But yet it is not strange, for, as I told you, it was a wisdom tooth.

* * * * *

"£3 10s. HUSBANDS.

WIFE WHO HOUSEKEEPS FOR THREE ON £2 A WEEK."--_Daily Paper._