That is to say, the leaving itself was much the same, for Pim carried her basket as far as her mother’s doorstep and there bade her a dejected farewell; but this occasion was remarkable for what followed after Pim had returned home, locked his door, and betaken him to his reft couch. He had not closed his eyes before he heard a soft whistle outside. It was the whistle of a neighbour, who, through the keyhole, informed him of something that had taken place down the street. “What!” cried Pim hoarsely, and the neighbour repeated his tidings. It seemed that there had been words between Mrs. Pim and her mother, and for temper, the choice of the pair of them was between vinegar and vinegar. “Tell me again what shoo said,” whispered Pim, incredulously through the keyhole. “Shoo said, shoo could pack off back. Shoo were fooil eniff to wed him th’ first time, shoo said, but th’ second, shoo’d ha’ to stand tul it. ‘Trot,’ shoo said, and slammed th’ window down. Shoo’s sitting on her basket now.” Pim returned to bed. Never had sheets seemed so delicious nor pillows so downy-soft. Pim hugged and loved himself in his glee. Twice he heard soft steps approach beneath his window--his wife was struggling with the humiliation of return; and the bed shook with his silent merriment. “Shoo were fooil eniff th’ first time, shoo can stand tul it now!” Pim o’ Cuddy had to gag himself with a pillow. It is not often we have the chance to live a score of years over again with everything come to pass exactly as we would have had it. There came a soft tapping at the door, not too loud, for fear of neighbours. Pim whinnied under the bedclothes with delight. The knocking grew louder, and a familiar voice called in suppressed tones. Pim stifled. Then, at an unguardedly loud knock, a neighbouring window opened. Further concealment was useless. Mrs. Pim o’ Cuddy began to knock indeed, using a stone for the purpose. Neighbours began to join in the clamour. Cole the clogger would have given stock and goodwill to have been there. Further feigning of sleep on Pim’s part would have been preposterous. He cogitated desperately; the jest could not be relinquished yet; and then there came to him the choicest idea of all. He lighted a candle, descended to the door, and again called through the keyhole. “Who is it?” he cried. “I’ll learn ye who it is, ye offald-looking church ratten!” came Mrs. Pim’s reply; and then Pim lifted up his voice on high. “What do I hear? A woman’s voice?” he cried. “A woman’s voice, and at my own door! Be off, ye baggage; be off wi’ your nasty merchandise, d’ye hear? Be off, ye wicked light woman! Be off, and leave saints and godly men i’ peace! Be off!...” --And, in whatever kind Pim o’ Cuddy subsequently paid for his prank, it remained doubtful whether at the bottom of his erring and naughty heart he ever really rued it.