"I said that the girl was not fit to be moved, and that SHE couldn’t be spared." "And what did she say to that?" "She said that we had made up a fine old tale between us, I and her old man." "Is that the lot?" "That’s the lot." "Very well then," commented Mr. Huggins. "Do you know what I shall say to it all, Doctor? I shall say: ’Tut, woman; tut!’" "Meaning?" queried the doctor. "Meaning?" echoed ’Ost ’Uggins, as he thumped his fist upon the counter, not without menace to its marble surface, "meaning that I am a man of few words: that I _will_ be master in me own ’ouse: that my motter is ’Live and let live.’ That I won’t see a pore girl drove to ruin not for all the cantankerous whims of all the cantankerous wives in all——. "Below there! ’Ush!" he added, with a sudden dropping of his voice. "’Ere _is_ the missus!" * * * * * "Where you gointer, you George?" demanded the missus, as George prepared to leave us. "Goin’ to find that fat-’eaded boy, my dear," responded George. "There’s a barrel wants tappin’." "There’s a lot more than barrels wants tappin’ in this ’ouse," said Mistress Huggins, with an air which was evidently intended to be significant of much. "What you done with that gel?" "Me, my dear?" responded the fist-strong Huggins. "Me? _I_ ain’t moved ’er." "Time you did, then. When’s she gointer leave this ’ouse?" ’Ost ’Uggins gently but firmly retreated. "I bin discussin’ it over with the doctor, my dear," he explained, upon gaining the little glass door which led into their private parlour. "’_E’ll_ tell you all about it. That’s right, ain’t it, Doctor? You’ll tell ’er all about it. Don’t forget my motter, Doctor." And Mr. Huggins obliterated himself. Mrs. Huggins, upon the contrary, and as it might be, intensified herself. "Look here, Doctor What-its-name," she said, "I kin spot the little game what is bein’ played between the landlord an’ you, same’s if I was partner. You are gettin’ up a conspiracy. See? _I_ know it. _I_ can’t be fooled." Mrs. Muggins was a mud-coloured woman, with a smouldering eye. She had rings on every finger and more knuckles than rings. "_I_ can’t be fooled!" she repeated. "What you doin’ with that gel?" "Leaving her where she is," responded the doctor. "She really isn’t fit to be moved." He added this information in the tone of one imparting confidences to a friend. "Fit or not fit, do you suppose I’m gointer _let_ ’er stop there? A low, ondecent ’ussy like what she is, to lie between my honest sheets! Take the gel away, I tell you! Do you want to make trouble between a man and ’is wife? Take the gel away!" Dr. Brink assumed a highly authoritative tone. "It is my duty as a doctor, madam," said he, "to warn you that the girl is not fit to be moved. And your husband, who in law is the responsible head of this house, agrees with me that——" "Why ain’t she fit to be moved? Answer me that?" rasped the woman.