"Wasn't I, then! And there's a guv'nor was nearer than I was. Mr. Potts, that's the very gen'leman as went a header into the water and saved her, Mr. Potts. Hold up yer head, guv'nor." "You're a chaffin of me, I know," said Potts. "Come, come, Jim, don't make a fool of me," said Thomas. "I wish I had known you were bringing me here. Come along. I won't stand it." But Jim was leaning over the counter, speaking in a whisper to the down-bent landlord. "You don't mean it?" said the latter. "Ask the mis'ess, then," said Jim. "You don't mean it!" repeated the landlord, in a husky voice, and with increase of energy. Then looking toward Thomas, "What will he take?" and with the words turned his back upon Jim, and his face toward a shelf on which stood his choicest bottles between two cask-like protuberances. He got down one of brandy, but Thomas, who was vexed at being brought there as if he wanted some acknowledgment of the good deed he had been fortunate enough to perform, refused to take anything. "What _will_ you take then?" said the man, whose whole stock of ideas seemed to turn upon _taking_. But at the moment a woman entered from behind the shop. "There, mis'ess," said her husband, "can _you_ tell who that gentleman is?" She looked at him for a moment, and exclaimed: "Bless my soul! It's the gentleman that took our Bessie out of the water. How do you do, sir?" she continued, with mingled pleasure and respect, as she advanced from behind the counter, and curtsied to Thomas. "None the worse for my ducking, thank you," said Thomas, holding out his hand in the delight a word of real friendship always gives. She shook it warmly, and would hardly let it go. "Oh! isn't he, then?" muttered Jim, mysteriously, but loud enough for Potts to hear. "Won't you come in, sir?" said the woman, turning to lead the way. "Thank you," answered Thomas. "I have been walking about all day, and am very tired. If you would let me sit down awhile--and--perhaps it wouldn't be giving you too much trouble to ask for a cup of tea, for my head aches rather." "Come in, sir," she said, in a tone of truest hospitality. "That I will, with pleasure, I'm sure." Thomas followed her into a dingy back room, where she made him lie down on a sofa from which he would have recoiled three days ago, but for which he was very grateful now. She then bustled about to get him some tea, and various little delicacies besides, in the shape of ham, and shrimps, etc., etc. It was pretty clear from her look, and the way she pressed her offerings of gratitude, that she had a true regard for inward comforts, if not for those outward luxuries of neatness and cleanliness. The moment Thomas was out of the shop, Jim Salter began to be more communicative with Mr. Potts. "None the worse!" said he, reflectively. "Oh, no. That's the way your quality talk about a few bank-notes. Nothing but a hundred pounds the worst. Oh, no."