I found that Mr. Perkins usually wound up his remarks with a question which, irrespective of its length, was generally made to sound like one word. The habit affected me as the application of a spur affects a well-fed and not unwilling steed. I did not resent it, but it made me jump. On this occasion I explained to the best of my ability that I wanted whatever sort of job I could get, but preferably one that would permit of my doing a little work on my own account of an evening. 'Ha! Applicacious and industrial--bettermentatious ambitions, hey? Quite right. No good sticking to the awlicular if you've anything of the embraceshunist in you.' He embraced his own ample bosom with wide-flung arms, as a London cabman might on a frosty morning. 'Man is naturally multivorous--when he's not a vegetable. Howjerliketerworkferme?' 'Very much indeed,' said I, rising sharply to the spur. 'H'm! Tssp!' It is not easy to convey in writing any adequate idea of this 'Tssp' sound. It seemed to be produced by pressing the tongue against the front teeth, the jaws being closed and the lips parted, and then sharply closing the lips while withdrawing the tongue inward. I am enabled to furnish this minutiae by reason of the fact that I deliberately practised Mr. Perkins's favourite habit before a looking-glass, to see how it was done. This was on the day after our first meeting. The habit was subtly characteristic of the man, because it was so suggestive of gustatory enthusiasm. He was for ever savouring the taste of life and of words, especially of words. 'Well, as it happeneth, Nickperry, your desire for a job is curiously synchronacious with my need of a handy lad. My handy lad stopped being a lad yesterday morning, was married before dinner, and is now away connubialising--honeymoon. After which he goes into partnership with his father-in-law--greens an' fish. It's generally a mistake to make partnerial arrangements with relations, Nickperry--apt to bring about a combustuous staterthings. So I wanterandyladyersee.' 'Yes, sir.' 'My name is Mister Perkins, Nickperry, not "Sir."' 'Yes, Mr. Perkins.' 'That's better. I know you don't mean to be servileacious, but that English "sir" is--we don't like it in Australia, Nickperry. You are from the Old Country, aren't you?' I admitted it, and marvelled how Mr. Perkins could have known it. 'H'm! Tssp! Fine ol' institootion the Old Country, but cert'nly a bit servileacious. D'jerknowhowtermilkercow?' 'I've been milking four, night and morning, for over two years, s'--Mister Perkins,' I answered, with some pride. 'Good for yez, Nickperry. Whataboutgardening?' 'I worked in the garden every day at the Orphanage, s'--Mister Perkins.' Mr. Perkins smiled even more broadly than usual. 'It's "Mister" not "Smister" Perkins, Nickperry.' I smiled, and felt the colour rise in my face. (How I used to curse that girlish blushing habit!)