Moggie came into the room, bringing a telegram.
"For me?" said Gammon. "Just what I expected." Reading, he broadened
his visage into a grin of infinite satisfaction. "'Please explain
absence. Hope nothing wrong.' How kind of them, ain't it! Yesterday
they chucked me; now they're polite. Reply-paid too; very
considerate. They shall have their reply."
He laid the blank form on the table and wrote upon it in pencil,
every letter beautifully shaped in a first-rate commercial hand:
"Go to Bath and get your heads shaved." "You ain't a-goin' to send
that!" exclaimed Mrs. Bubb, when he had held the message to her for
perusal.
"It'll do them good. They're like Polly--want taking down a peg."
Moggie ran off with the paper to the waiting boy, and Mr. Gammon
laughed for five minutes uproariously.
"Would you like a little bull-pup, Mrs. Bubb? he asked at length.
"Not me, Mr. Gammon. I've enough pups of my own, thank you all the
same."
CHAPTER III
THE CHINA SHOP
Mr. Gammon took his way down Kennington Road, walking at a leisurely
pace, smiting his leg with his doubled dog-whip, and looking about
him with his usual wideawake, contented air.
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