"What by?" asked Hannah, who said anything she chose before me without the smallest ceremony: and Tod had gone away. "As I was coming up here, Ingram stops me, and asks if I couldn't let him have the bit of money I owed him. I stared at the man: what money was I likely to owe him----" "Ingram the cow-keeper?" interrupted Hannah. "Ingram the cow-keeper. So, talking a bit, I found there was a matter of six shillings due to him for the children's milk: it was ever so long since my wife had paid. Back I went to her at once to know the reason why--and it was that made me late in coming up here, Master Johnny." "I suppose he had sold her skim milk for new, and she thought she'd make him wait for his money," returned Hannah. "All she said to me was that she didn't think it had been running so long; Ingram had said to me that she always told him she was short of money and couldn't pay," answered Reed. "Anyway, I don't think she'll let it run on again. It put me out, though. I'd rather go off into the workhouse, or die of starvation, than I'd let it be said in the place my wife didn't pay as she went on." _I_ saw through the difficulty, and should have liked to give Reed a hint touching Jellico. Now it was rather strange that, all in two days, Jellico and the mischief he was working should be thus brought before me in three or four ways, considering that I had never in my life before heard of the man. But it chanced to be so. I don't want to say anything about the man personally, good or bad; the mischief lay in the system. That Jellico sold his goods at a nice rate for dearness, and used persuasion with the women to buy them, was as plain as the sun at noonday; but in these respects he was no worse than are many other people in trade. He went to the houses in turn, and the women met him; it might be several weeks before the meeting was held at Mrs. Reed's again. Ann Dovey could not enjoy the hospitality of receiving him at hers, as her husband's work lay at home. But she was a constant visitor to the other places. And the time went on; and Mr. Jellico's trade flourished. But we heard nothing more about it at Dyke Manor, and I naturally forgot it. II. "Just six shillings on it, Mr. Figg! That's all I want to-day, but I can't do without that." That so well-conducted and tidy a woman as George Reed's wife should be in what the Cut called familiarly the "pawnshop," would have surprised every one not in the secret. But she it was. Mr. Figg, a little man with weak eyes and a few scattered locks of light hair, turned over the offered loan with his finger and thumb. A grey gown of some kind of woollen stuff. "How many times have this here gownd been brought here, Mrs. Reed?" asked he. "I haven't counted 'em," she sighed. "Why? What's that got to do with it?" "'Cause it's a proof as it must be getting the worse for wear," was the answer, given disparagingly.