th an
impatient toss of her head.

"No," said Jack, "I want to sell."

"You've come to the wrong shop, then," said Miss Kybird; "the warehouse
is full of rubbish now."

The other turned in his chair and looked hard at the window. "So it is,"
he assented. "It's a good job I've brought you something decent to put
there."

He felt in his pockets and, producing a silver-mounted briar-pipe, a
battered watch, a knife, and a few other small articles, deposited them
with reverent care upon the counter.

"No use to us," declared Miss Kybird, anxious to hit back; "we burn coal
here."

"These'll burn better than the coal you buy," said the unmoved customer.

"Well, we don't want them," retorted Miss Kybird, raising her voice, "and
I don't want any of your impudence. Get up out of our chair."

Her heightened tones penetrated to the small and untidy room behind the
shop. The door opened, and Mr. Kybird in his shirt-sleeves appeared at
the opening.

"Wot's the row?" he demanded, his little black eyes glancing from one to
the other.

"Only a lovers' quarrel," replied Jack. "You go away; we don't want
you."

"Look 'ere, we don't want none o' your nonsense," said the shopkeeper,
sharply; "and, wot's more, we won't 'ave it. Who put that rubbish on my
counter?"

He bustled forward, and taking the articles in his hands examined them
closely.

"Three shillings for the lot--cash," he remarked. "Done," said the
other.

"Did I say three?" inquired Mr. Kybird, startled at this ready
acceptance.

"Five you said," replied Mr. Nugent, "but I'll take three, if you throw
in a smile."

Mr. Kybird, much against his inclinations, threw in a faint grin, and
opening a drawer produced three shillings and flung them separately on
the counter. Miss Kybird thawed somewhat, and glancing from the
customer's clothes to his face saw that he had a pleasant eye and a good
moustache, together with a general air of recklessness much appreciated
by the sex.

"Don't spend it on drink," she remarked, not unkindly.

"I won't," said the other, solemnly; "I'm going to buy house property with
it."

"Why, darn my eyes," said Mr. Kybird, who had been regarding him closely;
"darn my old eyes, if it ain't young Nugent. Well, well!"

"That's me," said young Nugent, cheerfully; "I should have known you
anywhere, Kybird: same old face, same old voice, same old shirt-sleeves."

"'Ere, come now," objected the shopkeeper, shortening his arm an