“It’s none o’ your business,” said Larkins, surlily. “Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies. You’ll get some idea into that ’ead of yours and then go and split, and have it stopped.” “I never told of anything in my life,” said Morgan, sharply. “My mates here know that. That ain’t my way. My way’s persuasion and example, not forcing people to do what I want.” “There’s a purse o’ fifteen and six made up for the winner,” said Larkins, turning away and whispering the news to Gubbs. “The spot for the picnic’ll be made known later on. Them what’s in the know is respectfully asked to keep their mouths shut to save trouble all round.” He went back to his bar, and the other men, after standing about a bit, strolled off one by one to their teas. Mr. Morgan was one of the last to leave, and went as far as Tarbut’s door with him to tell him an anecdote of a man who was struck behind the ear in a fight and killed on the spot. A comfortable meal and a good night’s rest restored Mr. Gubbs to his wonted serenity of mind, and he awoke at six o’clock feeling determined to shake hands with Tarbut and let the matter drop. A persistent hammering at the door, which gradually got louder and louder, interfering with his meditations, he roused Mrs. Gubbs, who was sleeping peacefully, and with some asperity bade her get up and stop it. “It’s Mr. Larkins, Joe,” said the lady, hastily withdrawing her head from the window. Mr. Gubbs sat up in bed, and then with a mighty yawn rose, and, pushing open the casement again, gazed indignantly at the small publican, who was standing below keeping up an incessant rapping on the door with a small cane. “Morning, Mr. Larkins, sir,” said Gubbs, sniffing at the cool morning air. “Halloa!” said Larkins, looking up. “This won’t do, you know. You’re wasting time. You ought to be up and out by now.” “I’ve changed my mind,” said Gubbs, leaning out and speaking in a low voice to defeat the intentions of Mrs. Gubbs, who was listening. “I dreamt I killed Tarbut, an’ it’s give me such a fright that I’ve resolved not to fight.” “That’s all right,” said Larkins, briskly; “dreams always go by contraries.” “Well there ain’t much comfort in that,” said Gubbs, who was anxious to get back to his warm bed, sharply. “You dress and come down,” said the imperious Larkins. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself after all the trouble I’m taking on your behalf.” Mr. Gubbs rubbed his eyes and pondered. “What’s the towel for?” he demanded, suspiciously. “Rub you down with after you’ve bathed,” said the other. “_Bathed?_” said Mr. Gubbs, with emphasis. “Bathed? What for?” “Training,” replied Mr. Larkins. “Hurry up.” “I don’t believe old Bullock’s going to make Tarbut bathe,” said Gubbs, shivering; “it’s weakening.” “You do as you’re told,” said the autocratic Larkins. “Bullock don’t know nothing about it.”