It was evident to the slower-going Mr. Miller that his rival’s tongue was giving him an advantage which only the ever-watchful presence of the carpenter and his wife prevented him from pushing to the fullest advantage.  In these circumstances he sat for two hours after breakfast one morning in deep cogitation, and after six pipes got up with a twinkle in his slow eyes which his brother dealers had got to regard as a danger signal.

He had only the glimmering of an idea at first, but after a couple of pints at the “Bell” everything took shape, and he cast his eyes about for an assistant.  They fell upon a man named Smith, and the dealer, after some thought, took up his glass and went over to him.

“I want you to do something for me,” he remarked, in a mysterious voice.

“Ah, I’ve been wanting to see you,” said Smith, who was also a dealer in a small way.  “One o’ them hins I bought off you last week is dead.”

“I’ll give you another for it,” said Miller.

“And the others are so forgetful,” continued Mr. Smith.

“Forgetful?” repeated the other.

“Forget to lay, like,” said Mr. Smith, musingly.

“Never mind about them,” said Mr. Miller, with some animation.  “I want you to do something for me.  If it comes off all right, I’ll give you a dozen hins and a couple of decentish-sized pigs.”

Mr. Smith called a halt.  “Decentish-sized” was vague.

“Take your pick,” said Mr. Miller.  “You know Mrs. Pullen’s got two thousand pounds—­”

“Wiggett’s going to have it,” said the other; “he as good as told me so.”

“He’s after her money,” said the other, sadly.  “Look ’ere, Smith, I want you to tell him she’s lost it all.  Say that Tidger told you, but you wasn’t to tell anybody else.  Wiggett ’ll believe you.”

Mr. Smith turned upon him a face all wrinkles, lit by one eye.  “I want the hins and the pigs first,” he said, firmly.

Mr. Miller, shocked at his grasping spirit, stared at him mournfully.

“And twenty pounds the day you marry Mrs. Pullen,” continued Mr. Smith.

Mr. Miller, leading him up and down the sawdust floor, besought him to listen to reason, and Mr. Smith allowed the better feelings of our common human nature to prevail to the extent of reducing his demands to half a dozen fowls on account, and all the rest on the day of the marriage.  Then, with the delightful feeling that he wouldn’t do any work for a week, he went out to drop poison into the ears of Mr. Wiggett.

“Lost all her money!” said the startled Mr. Wiggett.  “How?”

“I don’t know how,” said his friend.  “Tidger told me, but made me promise not to tell a soul.  But I couldn’t help telling you, Wiggett, ’cause I know what you’re after.”

“Do me a favour,” said the little man.

“I will,” said the other.

“Keep it from Miller as long as possible.  If you hear any one else talking of it, tell ’em to keep it from him.  If he marries her I’ll give you a couple of pints.”