Holiday through, and then I'm O-R-P-H. See?”      

       “Leavin' me?”      

       “Leavin' you. If you must be left.”      

       Grubb looked round the shop. It certainly had become distasteful. Once upon a time it had been bright with hope and new beginnings and stock and the prospect of credit. Now—now it was failure and dust. Very likely the landlord would be round presently to go on with the row about the window.... “Where d'you think of going, Bert?” Grubb asked.     

       Bert turned round and regarded him. “I thought it out as I was walking       'ome, and in bed. I couldn't sleep a wink.”      

       “What did you think out?”      

       “Plans.”      

       “What plans?”      

       “Oh! You're for stickin, here.”      

       “Not if anything better was to offer.”      

       “It's only an ideer,” said Bert.     

       “You made the girls laugh yestiday, that song you sang.”      

       “Seems a long time ago now,” said Grubb.     

       “And old Edna nearly cried—over that bit of mine.”      

       “She got a fly in her eye,” said Grubb; “I saw it. But what's this got to do with your plan?”      

       “No end,” said Bert.     

       “'Ow?”      

       “Don't you see?”      

       “Not singing in the streets?”      

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