But when the tea-things had been cleared away, and Mrs. Duck had settled herself down in her chair to make out the first-floor’s bill, which had been standing for a month, Jabez cleared his throat, and, picking up a newspaper, prepared to open a masked battery upon the good lady from behind it. He was just about to inquire casually who the gentleman was who called so frequently during his absence, when there came a loud knock at the door. The servant was upstairs, Mrs. Duck was busy with her book, so Jabez proceeded to the door himself. He opened it, and let in a tremendous whiff of spirits and a voice which, in a thick, husky whisper, demanded if Mrs. Duck was at home. Jabez surveyed the visitor in astonishment. He was a middle-aged man, very shabbily dressed, and with bloated features, red, watery eyes, and a ragged, untidy beard. ‘And pray what do you want with Mrs. Duck?’ exclaimed Jabez, when he had recovered from his surprise. ‘Hulloh, guv’nor!’ exclaimed the man, with an attempt at a smile which gradually merged into a hiccough; ‘why’sh my old fren’ Shabez—dam’ fool’sh married my sis’er! Glash shee you.’ Jabez looked at the man silently for a moment. His words were a revelation. This, then, was the drunken visitor Georgina had seen so often. Mrs. Duck’s brother had certainly not prospered in business lately. While Jabez was hesitating whether he should ask his brother-in law in or not, that gentleman relieved him of all further anxiety by walking or rather rolling in himself, and seizing Jabez affectionately in his arms. ‘Gos blesh you, ol’ fler,’ he said. ‘Why’sh years since shaw you lasht. Know old shong— ‘“‘Tish yersh since las’ we met, And we may not meeteh again.”’ Mr. Turvey, having raised his voice and howled forth the above in a melancholy manner, here fell exhausted with the exertion and overcome by his feelings on to Mr. Jabez’s breast and wept copiously. Mrs. Duck, alarmed at the strange operatic performance in the hall, came running out, and, beholding her drunken brother helpless in her husband’s arms, immediately began to upbraid the former in an excited and hysterical manner. ‘Oh, you good-for-nothing brute!’ she exclaimed, ‘to come here disgracing me like this! Oh, you bad man! Ain’t I done everything I could for you? Oh, you wicked wretch!’ Mrs. Duck’s feelings were working up to the screaming-point, when Jabez, alarmed lest the noise should reach the lodgers and cause a scandal, took the bull by the horns and dragged Mr. Turvey into the parlour. ‘Come in, Susan, and shut the door,’ he groaned. ‘This is dreadful—very dreadful!’ ‘It isn’t my fault, Jabez,’ sobbed Mrs. Duck; ‘indeed it isn’t! I didn’t want him to come here. I was ashamed for you to see him, and I done what I could to keep him away. I’ve given him money, and food, and clothes, and it’s all gone in drink. He’s a bad man—a bad man—though he is my own flesh and blood, as the saying is. Ugh!’