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“Is–he—-deaf?” panted the wife-beater, “or wot?”

He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another frenzied scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall.

“Hel–lp!” moaned Mrs. Grummit.

“Halloa, there!” came the voice of the constable. “Why don’t you keep that baby quiet? We can’t get a wink of sleep.”

Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to his wife.

“He–he’s afraid–to come in,” he gasped. “Keep it up, old gal.”

He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang.

“Here he is,” cried the jubilant Grummit. “Now!”

His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr. Grummit sprawling.

“Hit my sister, will you?” he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose. “Take that!”

Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tugging at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr. Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to rise that she could make herself heard.

“Joke?” repeated her brother, incredulously. “Joke?”

Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained.

Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement to mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injured Grummit only added to his distress.

“Best joke I ever heard in my life,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Bob; I can’t bear it.”

“Get off ‘ome,” responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him.

“There’s a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open,” said the other. “Well, it’s a good job there’s no harm done. So long.”

He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near the window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours outside. Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say what he had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the window, and in a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the night. Even the sudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as she got into bed failed to move him.

“The bed’s broke, Bob,” she said faintly.

“Beds won’t last for ever,” he said, shortly; “sleep on the floor.”

Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the bedclothes and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time she was fast asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in devising further impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe next door.

He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. The constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummit felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass.

“I heard you last night,” said the constable, playfully. “My word! Good gracious!”

“Wot’s the matter with you?” demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short.

The constable stared at him. “She has been knocking you about,” he gasped. “Why, it must ha’ been you screaming, then! I thought it sounded loud. Why don’t you go and get a summons and have her locked up? I should be pleased to take her.”

Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. “Wot would it cost if I set about you?” he demanded, huskily.

“Two months,” said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; “p’r’aps three.”

Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The constable, lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a dispassionate smile. “That would be besides what you’d get from me,” he said, softly.

“Come out in the road,” said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence.

“It’s agin the rules,” said Mr. Evans; “sorry I can’t. Why not go and ask your wife’s brother to oblige you?”