"Bell Brumm ain't one of the provident sort," dissented Mrs. Cross. "How do you manage to get along at all, Drew, these bad times? You don't seem to get into trouble." "Well, we manage somehow," replied Andrew. "But we have to pinch. My missis sticks at her work, now I be out on't. She hardly looks off it; and I does the house, and sees to the children. Nine shilling, all but her silk, she earned last week. And finding that we _can_ exist on that after a fashion, has set me thinking that when my good wages was added to it we ought to have put by for a rainy day," he continued, after a pause. "Just let me get the chance again!" "It's surprising the miracles wages works when folks ain't earning none!" put in Mrs. Cross in a tone of irony, who did not altogether like the turn the conversation was taking. "When you get into work again, Drew Brumm, your wife won't be more able to save than the rest of us." "But she shall," returned Andrew. "And she sees for herself now that it might be done." "I was a-making a calkelation yesterday how long we might hold out on our household things," observed Jacob Cross--a silent man, in general. "If none of us can get work, they'll have to go, piecemeal. One can't clam; one must live upon something." "I'm resolved upon one point--that I won't have no underhand debt again," resumed Brumm. "Last spring I found out the flaring trade my missis was carrying on with them Bankes's--and the way I come to know of it was funny: but never mind that. 'Bell,' says I to her, 'I'd rather sell off all I've got and go tramping the country, than I'd live with a sword over my head'--which debt is. And I went down to Bankes's and said to 'em, 'If you let my wife get into debt again, I won't pay it, as I now give you notice, and I'll have you up before the justices for a pest.' I thought I'd make it strong, you see, Cross. And I paid off their bill, so much a week, and got shut of 'em. Them Bankes's does more mischief in Honey Fair than everything else put together." "Why, what do Bankes's do?" asked Jacob, in happy ignorance. "Do!" returned Brumm. "Don't you know----" But at that critical moment, Mrs. Cross, in bustling behind Andrew Brumm's chair, which was on the tilt, contrived to get her foot entangled in it. Brumm, his chair, and his pipe, all came down together. "Mercy on us!" uttered Jacob Cross, coming to the rescue. "How did you manage that, Brumm?" Before Brumm could answer, or had well gathered himself up, there was another visitor--Mr. Abbott, the landlord of at least a third of Honey Fair. He had come on his usual Monday's errand. Jacob Cross put down his pipe and touched his hat, which, in the manners of Honey Fair, was worn indoors. It was not often that the landlord and the men came into contact with each other. "Are you ready for me, Mrs. Cross?"