"After all," argued Philip to himself, "I daresay the old lady needs the money more than I do; and in any case she appears to think the rotten thing is hers, which will mean my getting another; so--" "Certainly I will take it, Mrs. Grice," he said. "Er--how much do you want for it?" At the mention of money Mrs. Grice became greatly flustered. "Really, sir, I would rather leave it to you," she protested. "A gentleman knows more about such things than what I do. I am quite sure you will give me a fair price for it." Philip, feeling perfectly certain that he would not, again pressed Mrs. Grice to name a figure. Finally the old lady overcame her extreme delicacy of feeling sufficiently to suggest ten shillings. "But we must be fair about it, sir," she insisted. "I don't want to overcharge you." She paused, as if struck by a sudden thought. "I'll tell you what, sir,--we'll ask a third party!" Next moment Mrs. Grice was at the door. "Grice!" she called shrilly. "Commin', Emmer," replied a husky voice, and Mr. Grice sidled into the room with uncanny suddenness. "How much, Grice," enquired his helpmeet, pointing to the curtain-pole, "would you think was a fair price for that pole? A _fair_ price, mind!" Mr. Grice fixed his wandering and watery eyes upon the article under consideration, and ruminated. Finally:-- "Ten shillin'," he said. Mrs. Grice turned to Philip with a smile of delighted surprise. "Well, I declare!" she exclaimed. "I was about right, after all, sir." Philip, quite overwhelmed by this convincing coincidence of judgment, announced humbly that he would take the curtain-pole. "I had better pay for it now," he said. "One moment, sir, if you please!" replied Mrs. Grice. Darting out on to the landing she reappeared almost instantly, heralded by a sonorous clang, carrying a bedroom ewer and basin. "Now these things, sir," she announced, "belongs to Grice. They were Sir Percy's present to him. 'Grice,' he said, just as he was leaving to marry Lady Ader Evings, 'this jug and basin are yours now: they are my present from me to you.' Didn't he, Grice?" Mr. Grice was understood to mumble assent. Mrs. Grice took another breath. It is hardly necessary to add that within the next thirty seconds Philip had become the reluctant owner of a chipped jug and basin, recently the property of a baronet. Mrs. Grice swept on. "Now, sir," she continued, with unabated vigour, "these fire-irons--" But at this moment, to Philip's unspeakable relief, Timothy arrived, and took command of the situation at once. Philip put on his hat and went for a walk in the Park. "We had great fun," reported Timothy on his return. "The last thing she tried to sell me was the fireplace. (I think it was Sir Percy's parting gift to the cat.) I said that I had no money and that they had better take it away. That spiked her guns. And now, my lad, you are going to put on your best duds and come poodle-faking with me!" CHAPTER XXIV