“Yeah? Well, just because you’re not getting any of it yourself you don’t have to pick on me,” said her brother-in-law, who now firmly believed himself to be the injured party.

“Georgie! You just take that right back!” It was his wife who spoke. “Just because Ede’s had hard luck and is left to fend for herself and her kiddie you got no right to taunt her because she’s living the life of a single girl and it gets her all nervous and stewed up—”

“I’m not stewed up,” shrieked Mrs Little, and hid her face in the sofa cushions, sobbing.

“Now look what you done!” roared George, happy to blame his wife for something.

“Mo-o-ommie!” The child’s voice floated down the stairs.

“Oh, God, you’ve wakened up Earl,” said Mrs Little, hastily mopping her eyes. “Coming, Lover! Mommie’s coming to you right away!” She hurried from the room.

“Well, now you’ve made a fine mess of it,” said Kitten.

“Aw, hell, Kitten, she’s not the only one that’s nervous. I’ve been five days on the road and I’m nervous as a cat. You know how I get.”

“I certainly do,” said Kitten, in what she meant to be a disapproving voice, but there was a strong hint of self-satisfaction in her tone.

“Well, all right; you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t come home that way, would you? Best compliment a wife can have. You don’t have to jump on me, just because I kid Ede a little bit. I tell you how Ede is: you got to kid her to keep yourself from taking a punch at her.”

“Now, Georgie, that’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“Sure, sure, I know. But she gives me a heartburn the wrong end of my digestive track, like the fella says. We ought to have a place of our own, Kitten.”

“We’ve been over all that lots of times, Georgie. We can share this big house with Ede a lot cheaper than we can live separate. We share the mortgage, and there’s what we get from the boarder, don’t forget.”

“I don’t like having a boarder.”

“It’s all money, and Mr Higgin is no trouble. With you on the road most of every week, it doesn’t bother you much. You wouldn’t want a room to stand empty, would you?”

“I guess not. But in this house everything’s for the boarder, or for Ede, or for that kid.”

“Aw now, honey-bunch, don’t be sore. There’s one thing in this house that’s all for Georgie.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Me,” said Kitten, and gave her husband a long and passionate kiss. She was a pretty little woman, and because she loved and was loved in return, she was rounded and attractive. Edith, though she had a child, looked sharp and unfruitful compared with her childless sister.

George was an unromantic figure, a travelling salesman for a food company, whose hair was thinning in front, and whose slack paunch slid down into the front of his trousers when he stood up. But so far as his nature allowed, he loved Kitten, and would have fought tigers for her. He kissed her now, greedily, and slipped his hand expertly into the bosom of her dress. And thus they remained, for perhaps a minute, until a key turned in the front door and the boarder came in.

“I hope I don’t intrude,” said he, popping his head around the corner from the hallway.

“Oh, not a bit. Come in, Mr Higgin,” said Kitten, jumping up and tidying her hair and frock.

“Jeez, Kitten, you don’t have to jump like that. I guess it’s legal, after six years married,” said George. “Take a chair, Mr Higgin.”

Bevill Higgin was a small, very neat man, so small and neat that the shininess of his suit and the oldness of his shoes did not at once attract attention. Although he was not eccentrically dressed, there was something old-fashioned in his appearance. His face was of a fresh, salmon pink, and his eyes were of a light and shiny blue. Although the top of his head was shiny and bald, the rusty hair which fringed it was long, and was brushed upward in an attempt to minimize his baldness, and this gave him a look of surprise. He had a long, inquisitive nose, and his little mouth was usually drawn into a bow, but from time to time it expanded in a smile which showed very white, very shiny false teeth. He was a teacher of elocution by profession, and, unlike many of his kind, he spoke in a pleasant voice with no particular accent, though an expert in such matters would have detected him as an Irishman. He perched himself neatly on a chair, and twinkled his eyes and his teeth at George and Kitten.

“I shan’t stay long,” said he. “I see that you are—busy, shall I say?” And he laughed; his laugh was of a kind infrequently heard, which can only be suggested by the syllables tee-hee, tee-hee. “I wanted to ask a favour. I am acquiring a few pupils now, quite a number, really, and it is not always convenient for me to teach them in their homes. Many of them are business young men and women, who live in lodgings. I hoped that I might beg the use of this room for a couple of nights a week—when you are from home, naturally, Mr Morphew—for two or three hours’ teaching?”

“Well, I’d have to give that some thought, Mr Higgin,” said Kitten.

“Naturally, I should wish to pay extra for the extra accommodation. But perhaps we could leave the matter of fixing a sum until I found out just how many hours I would need the room,” said Mr Higgin.

“Well—” Kitten was always open to suggestions which would bring more money into the house. There was that mortgage.

“Perhaps we might make some reciprocal arrangement,” said Mr Higgin. “I would be very happy to make the extra payment in lessons. You yourself, Mrs Morphew, have a delightful voice; a little training, and who can say what might not come of it? Or the little boy—a charming child, but think how his opportunities in life would be increased if, from infancy, he learned to speak with—shall I say?—an accent which would at once make him persona grata among persons of cultivation?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” said George, the kidder rising triumphant above the frustrated lover in him. He put one hand on his hip, and patted at his back hair with the other, speaking in what he believed to be the accent of a person of cultivation: “Good mawning, mothaw deah. Did I heah Uncle Georgie come in pie-eyed lawst night? Disgusting, yaws? Haw!” After this flight of fancy he could contain himself no longer, and burst into a guffaw.

“Georgie, that’s not funny,” said Kitten. Like many women, she had a superstitious reverence for teachers of all sorts, and she did not like to see Mr Higgin affronted. But Mr Higgin was tee-heeing happily.

“Oh, it’s easy to see where the talent lies in this house,” said he. “You have a real gift for comedy, Mr Morphew. I’d give a great deal to do some work with you, but I know you men of affairs. You’d be too busy.”

“Eh?” said George. “Well, some of the boys think I’m pretty good. Stunt night at the club, and that kind of thing.”

“Indeed, I know it,” said Mr Higgin. “I’ve had a wide experience of club smokers myself. Not for ladies, of course,” he cried, tee-heeing at Kitten, “but very good, oh, very good. It’s a pity so much talent is lost to business, but I don’t suppose anything can be done about it. Still, it would be a pleasure to help you.”

“You mean, give me a few lessons?” said George. “Well, I don’t see why not. Maybe I could work up a little new material, eh. For club night?”

“Do you know a song called The Stub of Me Old Cigar?” Mr Higgin’s eyes twinkled wickedly. “Or, If You Don’t Want The Goods, Don’t Maul ‘Em?” His eyes fleetingly sought Kitten. “Both delightful songs. I know all the verses.”

“It’s a deal,” said George, excitedly, and he would have closed with Mr Higgin then and there, but his sister-in-law came downstairs at that moment, greeted Mr Higgin formally, and sat down again to her paper, pencil in hand.

“What do you think, Ede,” said George. “Mr Higgin is going to give me a little training in a few little take-offs and sketches. Get a little new material.”