"You again?" he said, in a feeble Jewish voice. "Oh, you devil!--you--you--" here a fit of coughing seized him, and he contented himself with glaring at Mrs. Tibsey, upon which he was immediately confronted by that indomitable female, who seized the teapot and shook it in his face. "Five bob!" she shrieked; "five bob for this!" "Too much--far too much," said Lazarus in dismay; "say four, my dear, four." "Ten; I want ten," said Mrs. Tibsey. "No, no; four; you say ten, but you mean four." "Say six." "Four." "Then take it," said Mrs. Tibsey, clashing it down in wrath, "and the devil take you." "All in good time--all in good time," chuckled the old man, and disappeared through the door. "You see, you oughter 'ave taken the five," sniggered Isaiah, making out the pawnticket. "There's four bob, don't spend it in drink." "Me drink, you hugly himp," said the lady, sweeping the money into her capacious pocket, where it reposed in company with an empty gin bottle; "me drink, as takes in washin' and goes hout nussin', an' was quite the lady afore I fell into the company of wipers: me dr-- well," and, language failing her, Mrs. Tibsey sailed majestically out of the shop, coming into collision with Ezra and Keith, who were just entering. "A whirlwind in petticoats," said Keith, startled by this ragged apparition. "Askin' your parding, gents both," said Mrs. Tibsey, dropping a very shaky curtsey, "but a young limb h'insides bin puttin' my back hup like the wrigglin' heel 'e h'are, and if you're goin' to pop anythink, don't let it be a silver teapot, 'cause old Sating h'inside is the cuss of orphens and widders," and, having relieved her mind, Mrs. Tibsey flounced indignantly away to refresh herself with her favourite beverage. "Complimentary to your parent," observed Keith, as they entered the shop. "Oh, they're much worse sometimes," said Ezra complacently. "Isaiah, where's my father?" "In 'is room," replied Isaiah, resuming the reading of a sporting newspaper. Ezra opened the green baize door without knocking, and entered, followed by Keith. A small square room, even dingier than the shop. At one side a truckle bed pushed up against the wall, and next to it a large iron safe. A rusty grate, with a starved-looking fire, had an old battered kettle simmering on its hob. At the back a square dirty-paned window, through which the light fell on a small table covered with greasy green cloth, and piled up with papers. At this table sat old Lazarus, mumbling over some figures. He looked up suddenly when the young men entered, and cackled a greeting to his son, after which effort he was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to shake him to pieces. The paroxysm having passed, he began to talk in his feeble, Jewish voice. "He, he! my dear," looking sharply at Keith, "is this the young man you spoke of? Well, well--too good-looking, my dear--the women--ah, the women, devil take 'em, they'll be turning his head."