"Dick's been going it awfully," grumbled the old fellow; "there was nearly half an ounce here last night." Mrs Shingle rose, took the matches from the chimney-piece, struck a light, and held it to the bowl of the pipe; the visitor puffed the tobacco into a state of incandescence, and then subsided into his chair with a satisfied grunt, and sat staring straight before him, while Mrs Shingle sighed and went on with her stitching. "I met those two," said the old fellow, after a pause. Mrs Shingle looked up sharply. "Won't do," said her visitor. "What won't do?" "Hey?" "I say, what won't do?" said Mrs Shingle, colouring, and looking at him anxiously. "I can hear you--don't shout," said the old fellow. "I say that won't do. Has Tom been here much?" "No, not much," said Mrs Shingle. "I don't quite understand Tom," said the old fellow. "But I think he's a scamp." "Indeed, I'm sure he's not!" cried Mrs Shingle excitedly. "Sure he's not?" chuckled the old fellow. "Of course. Just like you women. You take a fancy to a man, and the blacker he is the more you say he's white." "I'm sure Tom is a very good, gentlemanly young fellow." "Of course. But it won't do, Polly--it won't do." "I don't see why it shouldn't do," said Mrs Shingle, tossing her head. "They're both young and nice-looking." "Bah! will that fill their insides?" "And they're getting very fond of each other." "More shame for you to let 'em," said the old man composedly. And his eyes twinkled with malicious glee as he saw the little woman begin to grow ruffled, like a mother hen, and the colour come into her wattles and comb. "And pray why?" said Mrs Shingle loudly. "Don't shout," said the old fellow. "Why, indeed! What will Max say when he knows of it?" "Ah!" sighed Mrs Shingle, "what indeed!" "He'll boil over in his confounded sanctified way, and kick Tom out of the house without a shilling of his mother's money." "Oh, dear, dear, dear," said Mrs Shingle, letting her work fall into her lap and wringing her hands; "that's what I've been thinking, and I've tried all I could to stop it; but the more I try, the fonder they get of one another." "Of course they do. That's their way--the young fools!" snarled the visitor; "and if you let 'em alone, Jessie will marry the young noodle, fill his house full of children, and make him a poor man all his life." "That wouldn't matter much if they were happy," sighed Mrs Shingle. "Same as you've kept poor old Dicky?" "Indeed! and we never had but one little one," said Mrs Shingle indignantly. "Hey?" "I say we never had but one little one--Jessie," said Mrs Shingle indignantly. "Gross piece of extravagance, too. You couldn't afford children." "No, indeed," sighed Mrs Shingle. "And now you're encouraging that pretty young baggage, who coaxes and carneys round you, to get herself in the same mess, and then you'll be happy." "Oh, dear, dear, dear, dear me! I wish I knew what to do," sighed Mrs Shingle.