LITMIR.BIZ

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again and a bolt was drawn.

      The two men passed together behind the bar, and so within my vision. Charlie had a grey muffler round his neck; his hands were far in his pockets and seemed to be at strain, as though trying to prevent his upper and his lower garments from flying apart. Jos Myatt was extremely dishevelled. In the little man's demeanour towards the big one there was now none of the self-conscious pride in the mere fact of acquaintance that I had noticed on the field. Clearly the two were intimate friends, perhaps relatives. While Jos was dispensing the gin, Charlie said, in a low tone:

      "Well, what luck, Jos?"

      This was the first reference, by either of them, to the crisis.

      Jos deliberately finished pouring out the gin. Then he said:

      "There's two on 'em, Charlie."

      "Two on 'em? What mean'st tha', lad?"

      "I mean as it's twins."

      Charlie and I were equally startled.

      "Thou never says!" he murmured, incredulous.

      "Ay! One o' both sorts," said Jos.

      "Thou never says!" Charlie repeated, holding his glass of gin steady in his hand.

      "One come at summat after one o'clock, and th' other between five and six. I had for fetch old woman Eardley to help. It were more than a handful for Susannah and th' doctor."

      Astonishing, that I should have slept through these events!

      "How is her?" asked Charlie, quietly, as it were casually. I think this appearance of casualness was caused by the stoic suppression of the symptoms of anxiety.

      "Her's bad," said Jos, briefly.

      "And I am na' surprised," said Charlie. And he lifted the glass. "Well—here's luck." He sipped the gin, savouring it on his tongue like a connoisseur, and gradually making up his mind about its quality. Then he took another sip.

      "Hast seen her?"

      "I seed her for a minute, but our Susannah wouldna' let me stop i' th' room. Her was raving like."

      "Missis?"

      "Ay!"

      "And th' babbies—hast seen them?"

      "Ay! But I can make nowt out of 'em. Mrs. Eardley says as her's never seen no finer."

      "Doctor gone?"

      "That he has na'! He's bin up there all the blessed night, in his shirt-sleeves. I give him a stiff glass o' whisky at five o'clock and that's all as he's had."

      Charlie finished his gin. The pair stood silent.

      "Well," said Charlie, striking his leg. "Swelp me bob! It fair beats me! Twins! Who'd ha'thought it? Jos, lad, thou mayst be thankful as it isna' triplets. Never did I think, as I was footing it up here this morning, as it was twins I was coming to!"

      "Hast got that half quid in thy pocket?"

      "What half quid?" said Charlie, defensively.

      "Now then. Chuck us it over!" said Jos, suddenly harsh and overbearing.

      "I laid thee half quid as it 'ud be a wench," said Charlie, doggedly.

      "Thou'rt a liar, Charlie!" said Jos. "Thou laidst half a quid as it wasna' a boy."

      "Nay, nay!" Charlie shook his head.

      "And a boy it is!" Jos persisted.

      "It being a lad and a wench," said Charlie, with a judicial air, "and me 'aving laid as it 'ud be a wench, I wins." In his accents and his gestures I could discern the mean soul, who on principle never paid until he was absolutely forced to pay. I could see also that Jos Myatt knew his man.

      "Thou laidst me as it wasna' a lad," Jos almost shouted. "And a lad it is, I tell thee."

      "And a wench!" said Charlie; then shook his head.

      The wrangle proceeded monotonously, each party repeating over and over again the phrases of his own argument. I was very glad that Jos did not know me to be a witness of the making of the bet; otherwise I should assuredly have been summoned to give judgment.

      "Let's call it off, then," Charlie suggested at length. "That'll settle it. And it being twins—"

      "Nay, thou old devil, I'll none call it off. Thou owes me half a quid, and I'll have it out of thee."

      "Look ye here," Charlie said more softly. "I'll tell thee what'll settle it. Which on 'em come first, th' lad or th'wench?"

      "Th' wench come first," Jos Myatt admitted, with resentful reluctance, dully aware that defeat was awaiting him.

      "Well, then! Th' wench is thy eldest child. That's law, that is. And what was us betting about, Jos lad? Us was betting about thy eldest and no other. I'll admit as I laid it wasna' a lad, as thou sayst. And it wasna' a lad. First come is eldest, and us was betting about eldest."

      Charlie stared at the father in triumph.

      Jos Myatt pushed roughly past him in the narrow space behind the bar, and came into the parlour. Nodding to me curtly, he unlocked the bookcase and took two crown pieces from a leathern purse which lay next to the bag. Then he returned to the bar and banged the coins on the counter with fury.

      "Take thy brass!" he shouted angrily. "Take thy brass! But thou'rt a damned shark, Charlie, and if anybody 'ud give me a plug o' bacca for doing it, I'd bash thy face in."

      The other sniggered contentedly as he picked up his money.

      "A bet's a bet," said Charlie.

      He was clearly accustomed to an occasional violence of demeanour from Jos Myatt, and felt no fear. But he was wrong in feeling no fear. He had not allowed, in his estimate of the situation, for the exasperated condition of Jos Hyatt's nerves under the unique experiences of the night.

      Jos's face twisted into a hundred wrinkles and his hand seized Charlie by the arm whose hand held the coins.

      "Drop 'em!" he cried loudly, repenting his naïve honesty. "Drop 'em! Or I'll—"

      The stout woman, her apron all soiled, now came swiftly and scarce heard into the parlour, and stood at the door leading to the bar-room.

      "What's up, Susannah?" Jos demanded in a new voice.

      "Well may ye ask what's up!" said the woman. "Shouting and brangling there, ye sots!"

      "What's up?" Jos demanded again, loosing Charlie's arm.

      "Her's gone!" the woman feebly whimpered. "Like that!" with a vague movement of the hand indicating suddenness. Then she burst into wild sobs and rushed madly back whence she had come, and the sound of her sobs diminished as she ascended the stairs, and expired altogether in the distant shutting of a door.

      The men looked at each other.

      Charlie restored the crown-pieces to the counter and pushed them towards Jos.

      "Here!" he murmured faintly.

      Jos flung them savagely to the ground. Another pause followed.

      "As God is my witness," he exclaimed solemnly, his voice saturated with feeling, "as God is my witness," he repeated, "I'll ne'er touch a footba' again!"

      Little Charlie gazed up at him sadly, plaintively, for what seemed a long while.

      "It's good-bye to th' First League, then, for Knype!" he tragically muttered, at length.

VIII

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      Dr. Stirling drove the car very slowly back to Bursley. We glided gently down into the populous valleys.

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