Wilfered bestowed another of his speaking glances upon your servant. And to the client he repeated his formula: "We don’t sell powders yere, my gal. If you wanter powder, go to the chimmis." The lady listened to this statement with an attentive air. Then she spoke again, saying, "Penny soothin’ powder for a baby eight months owld." "We don’t sell powders, I tell you," responded Wilfered. "No," said the girl, "but you give ’em." Wilfered extended his head a further inch through the peep-hole. His nose and that of the client almost touched each other. "This is a noo game, ain’t it?" demanded Wilfered. "What next? ’Cause we ’appen to give you a powder once, out of our generosity, seem to think you on’y got to come in yere to get one on the nod atenny minnit. Go to the chimmis." "Ma towld me to come yere," protested the client. "Then," said Wilfered, "you go ’ome an’ tell yere Ma as I refuse to serve ye. Seem to take us for a ’firmary. We don’t sell powders, nor we don’t give ’em—except first time to a reg’lar customer what does not know our rules. And if we was to sell powders, it wouldn’t be for a penny, me gel. "These powders," continued the loyal but shameless ’Pothecary, "are made up outer the very best drugs. They cost _us_ frippence. You go ’ome an’ tell yere mother _that_." The lady went home, to be followed, in the course of nature—this being, as it were, "the children’s hour"—by another lady, younger and smaller than any of her predecessors, demanding "A penny powder for——" "’Oose baby?" demanded Wilfered. "Baby four months old," replied the messenger. "_’Oose_ baby?" repeated Wilfered. "My baby," said the child. "You bin ’ere afore about your baby?" inquired the ’Pothecary. "No," said the messenger. "Oh," mused Wilfered. "What name?" "’Ilder," said the messenger. "Mother’s name, I mean," explained Wilfered. "Mrs. Bates, Mulberry Street," said Mrs. Bates’s emissary. And Wilfered repeated his formula: "Tell yere mother as we’ll _give_ ’er the powder this once, but nex’ time you must send to the chimmis. We don’t sell powders yere." Mrs. Bates’s daughter, having received her powder, and being as yet without a proper understanding, deposited the penny with which she had been entrusted upon the ledge of Wilfered’s peep-hole, and bolted from the waiting-room. Wilfered gazed upon this coin with an air of indecision. Finally, he picked it up (between a finger and thumb) and flung it into the till. His actions said plainer than words that he possessed a professional sentiment which was outraged at the thought of accepting this tainted money. And then—for events move quickly in Bovingdon Street—who should come bouncing in again but the big girl whom he had previously dismissed—she of the immovable smile. "Penny soothin’ powder for a baby eight months owld," said the big girl. Wilfered was at first unable to speak; but when he did so, it was with point and emphasis.