with temperance; that's the ideal."

"I'll tell you what 'appened only last night," commenced Mrs.
Postwhistle, seating herself the opposite side of the loo-table.
"A letter came for 'im by the seven o'clock post. I'd seen 'im go
out two hours before, and though I'd been sitting in the shop the
whole blessed time, I never saw or 'eard 'im pass through. E's
like that. It's like 'aving a ghost for a lodger. I opened 'is
door without knocking and went in. If you'll believe me, 'e was
clinging with 'is arms and legs to the top of the bedstead--it's
one of those old-fashioned, four-post things--'is 'ead touching the
ceiling. 'E 'adn't got too much clothes on, and was cracking nuts
with 'is teeth and eating 'em. 'E threw a 'andful of shells at me,
and making the most awful faces at me, started off gibbering softly
to himself."

"All play, I suppose? No real vice?" commented the interested Mr.
Clodd.

"It will go on for a week, that will," continued Mrs. Postwhistle--
"'e fancying 'imself a monkey. Last week he was a tortoise, and
was crawling about on his stomach with a tea-tray tied on to 'is
back. 'E's as sensible as most men, if that's saying much, the
moment 'e's outside the front door; but in the 'ouse--well, I
suppose the fact is that 'e's a lunatic."

"Don't seem no hiding anything from you," Mrs. Postwhistle remarked
Mr. Clodd in tones of admiration. "Does he ever get violent?"

"Don't know what 'e would be like if 'e 'appened to fancy 'imself