he court, could possibly hear her.
"Was beginning to be afraid as you'd tumbled over yerself in your 'urry
and 'urt yerself."

Mr. Clodd, perceiving Mrs. Postwhistle, decided to abandon method and
take No. 7 first.

Mr. Clodd was a short, thick-set, bullet-headed young man, with ways that
were bustling, and eyes that, though kind, suggested trickiness.

"Ah!" said Mr. Clodd admiringly, as he pocketed the six half-crowns that
the lady handed up to him. "If only they were all like you, Mrs.
Postwhistle!"

"Wouldn't be no need of chaps like you to worry 'em," pointed out Mrs.
Postwhistle.

"It's an irony of fate, my being a rent-collector, when you come to think
of it," remarked Mr. Clodd, writing out the receipt. "If I had my way,
I'd put an end to landlordism, root and branch. Curse of the country."

"Just the very thing I wanted to talk to you about," returned the
lady--"that lodger o' mine."

"Ah! don't pay, don't he? You just hand him over to me. I'll soon have
it out of him."

"It's not that," explained Mrs. Postwhistle. "If a Saturday morning
'appened to come round as 'e didn't pay up without me asking, I should
know I'd made a mistake--that it must be Friday. If I don't 'appen to be
in at 'alf-past ten, 'e puts it in an envelope and leaves it on the
table."

"Wonder if his mother has got any more like him?" mused Mr. Clodd. "Could
do with a few about this neighbourhood. What is it you want to say about
him, then? Merely to brag about him?"

"I wanted to ask you," continued Mrs. Postwhistle, "'ow I could get rid
of 'im. It was rather a curious agreement."

"Why do you want to get rid of him? Too noisy?"

"Noisy! Why, the cat makes more noise about the 'ouse than 'e does. 'E'd
make 'is fortune as a burglar."

"Come home late?"

"Never known 'im out after the shutters are up."

"Gives you too much trouble then?"

"I can't say that of 'im. Never know whether 'e's in the 'ouse or isn't,
without going upstairs and knocking at the door."

"Here, you tell it your own way," suggested the bewildered Clodd. "If it
was anyone else but you, I should say you didn't know your own business."

"'E gets on my nerves," said Mrs. Postwhistle. "You ain't in a 'urry for
five minutes?"

Mr. Clodd was always in a hurry. "But I can forget it talking to you,"
added the gallant Mr. Clodd.

Mrs. Postwhistle led the way into the little parlour.

"Just the name of it," consented Mr. Clodd. "Cheerfu