"Hey?" said the old fellow, taking his pipe out of his mouth. "I say blood is thicker than water, ain't it?" "Ever so much," growled the old fellow, going on with his smoking; while Dick, glancing over his shoulder, and seeing that his wife's attention was taken up with the binding, slipped a half-ounce packet of tobacco into his old friend's hand, with a nod and a wink, to indicate that the strictest secrecy must be observed. "Yes," continued Dick, retiring towards his bench; "that's what I always say--brothers is brothers, and blood's thicker than water. And as to Max--well, it's a way he's got, and he can't help it." "Stuff!" ejaculated Mrs Shingle sharply. "No, no, mother, it ain't stuff neither; so don't talk like that. Here, you sir," he cried to the boy, who was standing staring from one to the other, "get to work, you luxurious young rascal. That ain't the way to improve your shining hours. Wax up and get ready a pair of fine points to mend them old shoes." "All right, master," said the boy. And, slipping off his threadbare jacket, he sat down on a stool, and began to unwind a ball of hemp. "I don't believe in such brothers," said Mrs Shingle bitterly. "Brothers, indeed!" "No, that's it, mother; it's because you are a bit put out. But you'll see it in the right light soon." "Ah!" he continued, rearranging the band round his forehead; and then, catching sight of a letter tucked behind the glass, "Now, if old Uncle Rounce's money--or present, as he calls it--would drop in now, it would be welcome." As he spoke he opened the often-perused letter, which was written on thin paper and bore Australian postmarks, and began to read aloud: "`Thinking that a little money might be useful, I have sent you a present'--and so on. Now, I wonder when that money's coming." "Never," said Mrs Shingle tartly. "Now, there's where you are so wrong, mother," said Dick. "It's very kind of the old fellow, who must have got on famously to be able to send us a few pounds--it's sure to be pounds when it does come." "And it won't never come," said Mrs Shingle; "for you've had that letter nine months." "Well, if it don't, mother, it don't--that's all; but what I say is, blood is thicker than water, or else old Uncle Eb--as I never see, only heard o--wouldn't have said he'd send me a present--would he, Hoppy?" "Hey?" "I say Uncle Rounce wouldn't have said he'd send me a present if blood warn't thicker than water." "No. Have you got it yet?" said the old fellow. "No, not yet. I asked Max about it, and he said he didn't believe it would come." "He said that, did he?" "Yes, he said that," replied Dick, doubling the letter again, and replacing it behind the old looking-glass. "I dessay it'll come, though, some day." "You had better try and sell those boots at once," said Mrs Shingle rather impatiently, and as if she had not much faith in the coming money.