"Lord bless you, I know all about that. You pinched to get that piano," he indicated an ancient instrument, "because it was the only one in the row. And French! By Gum! Is there a girl except Susie who parleyvoos in this part of the town? Not one! The whole row gnashes its teeth over that." His pride in Susan’s accomplishments touched the mother’s heart. Her voice rang out clearly and triumphantly: "It’s perfectly true." At this moment Susan Biddlecombe entered the parlour, and Quinney sprang to his feet to greet her. She was just eighteen, and very pretty and refined, with small hands and feet, and delicately-cut features. The mother boasted that she looked a gentlewoman, and for the purposes of this narrative, it is far more important to add that she was innately gentle and womanly, with no tainting tincture of the ogling, smirking, provincial coquette. Quinney kissed her! Mrs. Biddlecombe blushed scarlet. Susan smiled, hesitated, and then kissed Quinney. Mrs. Biddlecombe ejaculated "Gracious!" "Give us yer blessin’," said Quinney, quite riotously. Then, masterfully, he kissed the girl again, turning to confront the astonished mother. "Settled between us three months ago," he explained fluently. "We dassen’t tell a soul, not even you, because of the old man. He was capable of leavin’ every bob to an orsepital for dogs. He said to me once, ’Don’t let me hear anything of goings on between you and that there Biddlecombe girl!’ By Gum, I obeyed him! He never did hear anything. Me and Susie took jolly good care o’ that. I only hope as he knows now." At this Susan murmured: "Joe, dear, please don’t!" Then mother and daughter solemnly embraced. "I hated not to tell you," whispered Susan, "but Joe would have his way." "The old ’un told me I might look high with my prospects, but he never did know quality. Quantity was what he’d go for. Lord! How he fairly wallowed in job lots! Well, all that’s over." He began to walk up and down the small room, telling the two women his plans for the future. They listened with shadows of perplexity in their brown eyes, and presently Mrs. Biddlecombe carefully cleaned and put on her spectacles, peering at her future son-in-law with eyes just dimmed by happy tears. Presently he spoke of the sign, making a rough drawing. Mrs. Biddlecombe laughed slily as she pointed out the apostrophe in "Quinney’s." "Isn’t Susie going to help?" she asked. "Why not ’Quinneys’?" "By Gum, you’re right. Of course she’s going to help. Make a rare saleswoman, too." "I should love to help!" said Susan eagerly. "You’d soon teach me, Joe." "All the tricks in the trade, Susie, and perhaps one or two of our own." The girl opened wider her honest eyes. "Must there be tricks?" she asked, and a finer ear than Quinney’s might have detected a note of anxiety. "Bless your innocent heart—yes! Dessay I shall learn a bit from you. Course o’ Shakespeare now, to improve one’s powers o’ speech."