"It's too fine to go to work to-day," he said, lazily. "Come to that,
any day is too fine to waste at work."
Mrs. Gribble sat gasping at him.
"So on Saturday I gave 'em a week's notice," continued her husband, "and
after Potts and Co. had listened while I told 'em what I thought of 'em,
they said they'd do without the week's notice."
"You've never given up your job?" said Mrs. Gribble.
"I spoke to old Potts as one gentleman of independent means to another,"
said Mr. Gribble, smiling. "Thirty-five bob a week after twenty years'
service! And he had the cheek to tell me I wasn't worth that. When I
told him what he was worth he talked about sending for the police. What
are you looking like that for? I've worked hard for you for thirty
years, and I've had enough of it. Now it's your turn."
"You'd find it hard to get another place at your age," said his wife;
"especially if they wouldn't give you a good character."
"Place!" said the other, staring. "Place! I tell you I've done with
work. For a man o' my means to go on working for thirty-five bob a week
is ridiculous."
"But suppose anything happened to me," said his wife, in a troubled
voice.
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