248 THE SOUTH COUNTRY 



" She was one of these pretty gallus dancing-girls who 

 get their fifteen shillings a week. Her food don't 

 nourish her. Now my brother used to laugh in publics 

 for a pint and he would laugh till they gave him a pint 

 to stop." 



" Oh, I can laugh after a pint," says the wife, " but 

 then I could just as easy cry, I worries so. There's many 

 a aching heart goes up and down that Great Western 

 Railway in the express trains." 



" I never worries, missus," says a labourer with pursy 

 mouth, short pipe, and head straight up behind from his 

 neck. 



" Quite right," says the husband. " My old girl here 

 lives on the fat of the land and is always thin. Her food 

 don't nourish her. There's more harm done in the world 

 by a discontented gut than anything else. I think of 

 asking her to try living on her pipe by itself." 



" Like Mr. Jones over there," says one of the labourers. 



" Mr. Jones ? What, my friend Mr. William Jones ? " 

 asks the tall man. 



" Is he a friend of yours ? " asks the landlord, curiosity 

 overpowering his natural caution with a man who is sell- 

 ing spectacles at a shilling a pair. 



" He is, and I don't mind letting any one know it. I'm 

 very glad to see him settled down. He's the only one 

 along the road who hasn't gone to the flower show 

 to-day." Here the tall man calls for another tankard, 

 which, as he is doing all the talking, he does not pass to 

 the small neat woman behind him. Pleased to be civilly 

 used, and warmed by the liquor, he tells the story of his 

 friend, the little woman helping him out, and landlord 

 and labourers adding some touches; and Mr. Jones him- 





