“Why, Mr. George? In the name of⁠—of brimstone, why?” says Grandfather Smallweed with a plain appearance of exasperation. (Brimstone apparently suggested by his eye lighting on Mrs. Smallweed in her slumber.)

“For two reasons, comrade.”

“And what two reasons, Mr. George? In the name of the⁠—”

“Of our friend in the city?” suggests Mr. George, composedly drinking.

“Aye, if you like. What two reasons?”