“Now, which,” said Mr. Boffin softly, taking out a pocketbook, “which of you two is cashier?”

“Sophronia, my dear,” remarked her husband, as he leaned back in his chair, waving his right hand towards her, while he hung his left hand by the thumb in the armhole of his waistcoat: “it shall be your department.”

“I would rather,” said Mr. Boffin, “that it was your husband’s, ma’am, because⁠—but never mind, because, I would rather have to do with him. However, what I have to say, I will say with as little offence as possible; if I can say it without any, I shall be heartily glad. You two have done me a service, a very great service, in doing what you did (my old lady knows what it was), and I have put into this envelope a bank note for a hundred pound. I consider the service well worth a hundred pound, and I am well pleased to pay the money. Would you do me the favour to take it, and likewise to accept my thanks?”