k much o' them myself, but Tot says
they're better than nothing. Them six cheers is the best I ever sat on.
Nothin' can smash 'em. Mad Haco even can't--"

"Ah! is Haco alive still?" interrupted Gaff.

"Alive, I should think so. Nothin' 'll kill that man. I don't believe
buryin' him alive would do it. He's up at the Sailors' Home just now.
But I'm not done yet. Here's a portrait o' Lord Nelson, as can look all
round the room. See, now, git into that corner. Now, an't he lookin'
at ye?"

"That he is, an' no mistake," replied Gaff.

"Well, git into this other corner; now, an't he lookin' at ye still?"

"To be sure he is!"

"Well, well, don't go for to puzzle yer brains over it. That pictur'
has nearly druv all the thinkin' men o' Cove mad, so we'll let it alone
just now. Here's a man-o'-war, ye see; an' this is the steps for
mountin' into the four-poster. It serves for a--a--some sort o' _man_,
I forget--Tot, _you_ know--"

"An ottoman," said Tottie.

"Ay, a ottyman by day, an' steps-an'-stairs at night. Look there!"

Mrs Gaff opened up the steps and said, "What d'ye think o' that?"

Gaff said, "Wonderful!" and Billy exclaimed, "Hallo!"

"Yes, Stephen," resumed Mrs Gaff, going to the cupboard and fetching
the tea-caddy, from which she extracted her banker's book, "all them
things was bought for you with your own fortin', which is ten thousand
pound, (an' more, for I've not lived up to the interest by no manner o'
means); an' that there book'll show ye it's all true."

Having reached this point, Mrs Gaff was seized with a fit of laughter,
which she stifled on her husband's breast, and then, flinging herself
into the four-poster, she burst into a flood of tears.

This was the first time in her life that she had given way to such
weakness, and she afterwards said to Tottie, in reference to it, that
she couldn't help it, and had made up her mind to have a good cry once
for all, and be done with it.

Gaff and his son examined the bank-book, and listened with wonder to
Tottie's account of the manner in which their wealth had come to them.
Before the recital was completed, Mrs Gaff had had her cry out, and
dried her eyes.

"What think ye of that, Stephen?" she said, pointing to the book.

Gaff shook his head slowly, and looked very grave.

"I don't much like it, Jess."

"What, don't like money?"

"Too much of it is dangerous. I hope it won't harm us, lass."

"It's done no harm to me yet, as I