few shillings a week that sufficed to him, he kept up a
long-standing reputation for joviality, and, with the aid of his
fiddle, made himself welcome at many a festive gathering in Lambeth.

'Give Mr. Hackroyd a cup o' tea, Mary,' said Mrs. Bower. 'How you
pore men go about your work days like this is more than I can
understand. I haven't life enough in me to drive away a fly as
settles on my nose. It's all very well for you to laugh, Mr. Boddy.
There's good in everything, if we only see it, and you may thank the
trouble you've had as it's kep' your flesh down.'

Ackroyd addressed the old man.

'There's a friend of mine in Newport Street would be glad to have
you do a little job for him, Mr. Boddy. Two or three chairs, I
think.'

Mr. Boddy held forth his stumpy, wrinkled hand.

'Give us a friendly grip, Mr. Ackroyd! There's never a friend in
this world but the man as finds you work; that's the philosophy as
has come o' my three-score-and-nine years. What's the name and
address? I'll be round the first thing on Monday morning.'

The information was given.

'You just make a note o' that in your head, Mary, my dear,' the old
mam continued. ''Taint very likely I'll forget, but my memory do
play me a trick now and then. Ask me about things as happened fifty
years ago, and I'll serve you as well as the almanac. It's the same