"What to do!" chorused the old fellow. "No business to have married. I didn't, and I've saved just enough to live on with strict economy; and see how happy I am." "You don't seem to be," said Mrs Shingle tartly; "for you're always finding fault." "Finding fault?" Mrs Shingle nodded. "Makes me happy. Then I come and smoke a pipe here one day, and one at Max's another day; and you're both so glad to see me that that makes me happy too. Ha! you've spoiled that girl of yours, or she wouldn't go on like she does." "I'm sure Jessie couldn't |be a better behaved girl!" exclaimed Mrs Shingle. "Stuff! You never whipped her well, and Max never trained those boys. Good thing flogging! Makes the skin soft and elastic. Gives room to grow. Where's Dick?" "Gone to his brother's." "Gone to his brother's?" Mrs Shingle nodded. "What's he gone there for?" "Take home a pair of new boots." "What! did Max give Dick an order for a new pair?" Mrs Shingle nodded. "Wonderful! Max is getting more virtuous than ever. I'll praise him next time I go." "No, don't--please," said Mrs Shingle earnestly. "Every little does help so just now; and we can't afford to offend Max." "So you make traps, and put Jessie in for a bait, and try to catch his wife's two boys, eh?" "Indeed I did not," cried Mrs Shingle; "it was all Tom's own doing." "Ah, I dare say it was; but young Fred's always hanging about here too; and as soon as-ever Max hears of it, there will be no end of a row. I shall put him on his guard." "Pray say nothing!" cried Mrs Shingle imploringly. "Why not? Best for both the young noodles to be brought to their senses." "No, no; it would make them so unhappy. Let matters take their course. It will be quite time enough for the trouble to come when Maximilian finds it out for himself. Hush! here's Dick." "Hulloa! What's that? The old game. Woman all over. Keeping secrets from your husband. Glad I never married!" Mrs Shingle darted an indignant look at him, and no doubt a sharp retort was on her lips; but it was checked by a voice outside, and Richard Shingle, the occupier of the house, the mechanic who made boots and shoes and neatly executed repairs, entered the room, followed by his boy, with "Hallo, Hoppy, old man, how are you? Glad to see you. Too soon for the B flat yet; but you stop all day, and we'll polish that bit off to rights." "How are you, Dick--how are you?" said the old man quietly. And then refilling his pipe, he lit up, half turned his back, and seemed to ignore that which followed, and to be totally ignored, on account of his deafness.