house of indefinite duration; and Mr. Piper, in
his new _role_ of broker's man, essayed the part with as much help as a
clay pipe and a pint of beer could afford him.

That day and the following he spent amid the faded grandeurs of the
drawing-room, gazing longingly at the wide expanse of beach and the
tumbling sea beyond. The house was almost uncanily quiet, an occasional
tinkle of metal or crash of china from the basement giving the only
indication of the industrious Mrs. Cox; but on the day after the quiet
of the house was broken by the return of its master, whose annoyance,
when he found the drawing-room clock stolen and a man in possession,
was alarming in its vehemence. He lectured his wife severely on her
mismanagement, and after some hesitation announced his intention of
going through her books. Mrs. Cox gave them to him, and, armed with
pen and ink and four square inches of pink blotting-paper, he performed
feats of balancing which made him a very Blondin of finance.

"I shall have to get something to do," he said, gloomily, laying down
his pen.

"Yes, dear," said his wife.

Mr. Cox leaned back in his chair and, wiping his pen on the
blotting-paper, gazed in a speculative fashion round the room. "Have you
any money?" he inquired.

For reply his wife rummaged in her pocket and after a lengthy
search produced a bunch of keys, a thimble, a needle-case, two
pocket-handkerchiefs, and a halfpenny. She put this last on the table,
and Mr. Cox, whose temper had been mounting steadily, threw it to the
other end of the room.

"I can't help it," said Mrs. Cox, wiping her eyes. "I'm sure I've
done all I could to keep a home together. I can't even raise money on
anything."

Mr. Cox, who had been glancing round the room again, looked up sharply.

"Why not?" he inquired.

"The broker's man," said Mrs. Cox, nervously; "he's made an inventory of
everything, and he holds us responsible."

Mr. Cox leaned back in his chair. "This is a pretty state of things," he
blurted, wildly. "Here have I been walking my legs off looking for
work, any work so long as it's honest labour, and I come back to find a
broker's man sitting in my own house and drinking up my beer."

He rose and walked up and down the room, and Mrs. Cox, whose nerves were
hardly equal to the occasion, slipped on her bonnet and announced her
intention of trying to obtain a few necessaries on credit. Her husband
waited in indignant silence until he heard the