"Hullo, Gran Pinn!" he roared. "Yu here! Didn' know I'd got a new mate for hauling up, did 'ee? Have her got 'ee yer drop o' stout eet? Us two'll take 'ee home if yu drinks tu much." "Oh yu...." screeched Mrs Pinn with facetious rage followed by a swift collapse into company manners again. "Thees yer be my mother-in-law, sir." "Mr Whats-his-name knaws that, an' I knaws yu got he staying with 'ee--there!" "Well then, gie us some supper then." Mrs Pinn--'twas to be felt in the air--had been hearing all about me. Beside her glass of stout and ale, she looked a little less prim and defiant. But she was still on company manners. She sat delicately, on the extreme edge of a chair, by the side of, not facing, her plate of bread, cheese and pickles; approached them; mopped up, so to speak, a mouthful and a gulp; then receded into mere nodding propinquity. Her supper was a series of moppings-up. Me she kept much in her eye, and to my remarks ejaculated "Aw, my dear soul!" or "Did yu ever?" I said with feeble wit, in order to grease the conversation, that stout and bitter, being called _mother-in-law_, was just the thing for Mrs Pinn. "Aw, my dear life!" she exclaimed, taking a mouthy sip. "What chake to be sure!" It was Mrs Widger who, with a glint of amusement in her eyes, came tactfully to my rescue. [Sidenote: _MY NIGHTCAP_] About ten o'clock, Mrs Widger took down two glasses and the sugar basin, and set the conical broad-bottomed kettle further over the fire. Mrs Pinn glanced at the top shelf of the dresser where my whiskey bottle stands. Her bright eyes kept on returning to that spot. I should have liked to ask Mrs Pinn to take a glass, but knew I could not afford to let it be noised abroad that 'there's a young gen'leman to Tony Widger's very free with his whiskey.' I dared not make a precedent I should have to break; the breaking of which would give more disappointment than its non-creation. Equally well, I knew that it was no use going to bed without something to make me sleep.... I told Tony I would go out and look at the weather. "Yu must 'scuse me 'companying of 'ee 'cause I got me butes off. My veet _du_ ache!" On my return, the bright eyes were still travelling to and fro, from bottle to glasses. I yawned, Tony yawned noisily, Mrs Widger capaciously. Mrs Pinn was herself infected. "'Tis time I was home.... Oh, Lor'!" she yawned. She went; and when I asked Tony to share my customary nightcap, it was with ill-hidden glee that he replied as usual: "Had us better tu?" His native politeness prevented him from saying anything, however, and Mrs Widger showed not a sign of having observed the little victory, so meanly necessary, so galling in every stage to the victor. Tony declares that he will really and truly start mackerel hooking to-morrow morning--"if 'tis vitty," and "if the drifters an't catched nort," and "if 'tis wuth it," and "if he du." 9