Mrs. Postwhistle went to the cupboard to get Mr. Clodd a drink.
Another thud upon the floor above--one suggestive of exceptional
velocity--arrived at the precise moment when Mrs. Postwhistle, the
tumbler level with her eye, was in the act of measuring.

"I call this making a disturbance," said Mrs. Postwhistle,
regarding the broken fragments.

"It's only for another night," comforted her Mr. Clodd. "I'll take
him away some time to-morrow. Meanwhile, if I were you, I should
spread a mattress underneath that perch of his before I went to
bed. I should like him handed over to me in reasonable repair."

"It will deaden the sound a bit, any'ow," agreed Mrs. Postwhistle.

"Success to temperance," drank Mr. Clodd, and rose to go.

"I take it you've fixed things up all right for yourself," said
Mrs. Postwhistle; "and nobody can blame you if you 'ave. 'Eaven
bless you, is what I say."

"We shall get on together," prophesied Mr. Clodd. "I'm fond of
animals."

Early the next morning a four-wheeled cab drew up at the entrance
to Rolls Court, and in it and upon it went away Clodd and Clodd's
Lunatic (as afterwards he came to be known), together with all the
belongings of Clodd's Lunatic, the curtain-pole included; and there
appeared again behind the fanlight of the little grocer's shop the