His words fell on empty air, his wife having already sped upstairs to pacify Master Smith by a rhythmical and monotonous thumping on the back. Also she lifted up a thin and not particularly sweet voice and sang to him. Mr. Billing, finishing his supper in indignant silence, told himself grimly that he was “beginning to have enough of it.” He spent the evening at the Charlton Arms, and, returning late, went slowly and heavily up to bed. In the light of a shaded candle he saw a small, objectionable-looking infant fast asleep on two chairs by the side of the bed. “H’sh!” said his wife, in a thrilling whisper. “He’s just gone off.” “D’ye mean I mustn’t open my mouth in my own bedroom?” demanded the indignant man, loudly. “H’sh!” said his wife again. It was too late. Master Smith, opening first one eye and then the other, finished by opening his mouth. The noise was appalling. “H’sh! H’sh!” repeated Mrs. Billing, as her husband began to add to the noise. “Don’t wake ’im right up.” “Right up?” repeated the astonished man. “Right up? Why, is he doing this in ’is sleep?” He subsided into silence, and, undressing with stealthy care, crept into bed and lay there, marvelling at his self-control. He was a sound sleeper, but six times at least he was awakened by Mrs. Billing slipping out of bed—regardless of draughts to her liege lord—and marching up and down the room with the visitor in her arms. He rose in the morning and dressed in ominous silence. “I ’ope he didn’t disturb you,” said his wife, anxiously. “You’ve done it,” replied Mr. Billing. “You’ve upset everything now. Since I joined the Purnip lot everybody’s took advantage of me; now I’m going to get some of my own back. You wouldn’t ha’ dreamt of behaving like this a few weeks ago.” “Oh, Joe!” said his wife, entreatingly; “and everybody’s been so happy!” “Except me,” retorted Joe Billing. “You come down and get my breakfast ready. If I start early I shall catch Mr. Bill Ricketts on ’is way to work. And mind, if I find that steam-orgin ’ere when I come ’ome to-night you’ll hear of it.” He left the house with head erect and the light of battle in his eyes, and, meeting Mr. Ricketts at the corner, gave that justly aggrieved gentleman the surprise of his life. Elk Street thrilled to the fact that Mr. Billing had broken out again, and spoke darkly of what the evening might bring forth. Curious eyes followed his progress as he returned home from work, and a little later on the news was spread abroad that he was out and paying off old scores with an ardour that nothing could withstand. “And wot about your change of ’art?” demanded one indignant matron, as her husband reached home five seconds ahead of Mr. Billing and hid in the scullery. “It’s changed agin,” said Mr. Billing, simply.