strong men,' he says. 'Show me to Mr. McEachern,' says Galer. 'He'll—' crouch, is dat it?"
"Vouch?" suggested Jimmy. "Meaning give the glad hand to."
"Dat's right. Vouch. I wondered what he meant at de time. 'He'll vouch for me,' he says. Dat puts him all right, he t'inks; but no, he's still in Dutch, 'cos de vally mug says, 'Nix on dat! I ain't goin' to chase around de house wit' youse, lookin' fer Mr. McEachern. It's youse fer de coal-cellar, me man, an' we'll see what youse has to say when I makes me report to Sir Tummas.' 'Well, dat's to de good,' says Galer. 'Tell Sir Tummas. I'll explain to him.' 'Not me!' says de vally. 'Sir Tummas has a hard evenin's woik before him, jollyin' along de swells what's comin' to see dis stoige-piece dey're actin'. I ain't goin' to worry him till he's good and ready. To de coal-cellar fer yours! G'wan!' an' off dey goes! An' I gits busy ag'in, swipes de jools, an' chases meself here."
Jimmy wiped his eyes.
"Have you ever heard of poetic justice, Spike?" he asked. "This is it. But, in this hour of mirth and good-will, we must not forget—"
Spike interrupted. Pleased by the enthusiastic reception of his narrative, he proceeded to point out the morals that were to be deduced therefrom.
"So, youse see, boss," he said, "it's all to de merry. When dey rubbers for de jools, an' finds dem gone,
