"Well, you see, mum, it was like this: last night was very dark, and my missus said to me, `Jacky,' she says, `take the boocket and go down to Brown's poomp and get a boocket o' watter.' Because you see, mum, the sucker being wore, our poomp's not agate just now." "Well!" exclaimed Mrs Glaire, impatiently. "Well, mum, I goes round by Kitty Rawson's corner, and out back way, and I come upon Master Richard wi' his arm round Daisy Banks's waist." "Now, Jacky," exclaimed Mrs Glaire, with a hysterical sob, "if this is not the truth I'll never, never forgive you." "Truth, mum," said Jacky, in an ill-used tone. "I've been clerk here a matter o' twenty year, and my father and grandfather before me, and would I tell a lie, do you think? Speak the truth without fear or favour. Amen." "Go away now," cried Mrs Glaire, sharply. "Wean't I water all the plants, mum?" "No; go away, and if you say a word to a soul about this, I'll never forgive you, Jacky, never." "Thanky, mum, thanky," said Jacky, turning to go, and nearly trampling on Prince. "No, come here!" exclaimed Mrs Glaire, whose face was working. "Go round to the foundry, and tell Joe Banks I want to speak to him. Tell him I'm in the garden." "Yes, mum." "Jacky," she said, calling him back. "Yes, mum." "Don't you dare to say a word about what it's for." "No, mum." Jacky went off round by his tool-shed, out into the street, and down to the foundry gates, where, after a word with the gateman, he went on across the great metal-strewn yard in search of Mrs Glaire's sturdy foreman. Meanwhile that lady caught up her dog, and carried him to a garden seat, where, upon being set down, he curled up and went to sleep, his tail and ears combined, making a comfortable coverlid. Then taking off her scissors and placing them in her basket, Mrs Glaire seated herself, sighing deeply, and taking out from a voluminous pocket, which took sundry evolutions with drapery to reach, a great ball of lambswool and a couple of knitting pins, she began to knit rapidly what was intended to be some kind of undergarment for her only son. "Oh, Dick, Dick," she muttered; "you'll break my heart before you've done." The knitting pins clicked loudly, and a couple of bright tears stole down her cheeks and dropped into her lap. "And I did not tell him to hold his tongue before Eve," she exclaimed, sharply. "Tut-tut--tut-tut! This must be stopped; this must be stopped." The sighing, lamenting phase gave place by degrees to an angry one. The pins clicked sharply, and the pleasant grey head was perked, while the lips were tightened together even as were the stitches in the knitting, which had to be all undone.