Part 54 (1/2)

_Chris._ Nay, _he's_ not got one.

_Mrs. H._ What? Why I saw him with my own eyes setting out in it last Sat.u.r.day week after the mill shut.

_Chris._ Ay! He's gone off these Wakes with his pal George Ramsbottom.

A couple of thick beggars, those two!

_Mrs. H._ Then what do you mean telling me he's not got a motor car?

_Chris._ I said he hadn't got one of his own. It's his father's. You don't catch Nat Jeffcote parting with owt before his time. That's how he holds his lad in check, as you might say.

_Mrs. H._ Alan Jeffcote's seldom short of cash. He spends plenty.

_Chris._ Ay! Nat gives him what he asks for, and doesn't want to know how he spends it either. But he's _got_ to ask for it first. Nat can stop supplies any time if he's a mind.

_Mrs. H._ That's likely, isn't it?

_Chris._ Queerer things have happened. You don't know Nat like I do.

He's a bad one to get across with.

(_Another flash and gentle peal. Mrs. H. gets up._)

_Mrs. H._ I'll light the gas.

(_She pulls down the blind and lights the gas._)

_Chris._ When I met Nat this morning he told me that Alan had telegraphed from Llandudno on Sat.u.r.day asking for twenty pounds.

_Mrs. H._ From Llandudno?

_Chris._ Ay! Reckon he's been stopping there. Run short of bra.s.s.

_Mrs. H._ And did he send it?

_Chris._ Of course he sent it. Nat doesn't stint the lad. (_He laughs quietly._) Eh, but he _can_ get through it, though!

_Mrs. H._ Look here. What are you going to say to f.a.n.n.y when she comes?

_Chris._ Ask her where she's been?

_Mrs. H._ Ask her where she's been. Of course we'll do that. But suppose she won't tell us?

_Chris._ She's always been a good girl.

_Mrs. H._ She's always gone her own road. Suppose she tells us to mind our own business?

_Chris._ I reckon it _is_ my business to know what she's been up to.

_Mrs. H._ Don't you forget it. And don't let her forget it either. If you do, I promise you I won't.

_Chris._ All right. Where's that post-card?

_Mrs. H._ Little good taking heed of that.