Then taking out his rule, he measured it.

‘Twelve feet square; one hundred and forty-four square feet! Sir, this house would appear to have been built simply for the accommodation of your chimney.’

‘Yes, my chimney and me. Tell me candidly, now,’ I added, ‘would you have such a famous chimney abolished?’

‘I wouldn’t have it in a house of mine, sir, for a gift,’ was the reply. ‘It’s a losing affair altogether, sir. Do you know, sir, that in retaining this chimney, you are losing, not only one hundred and forty-four square feet of good ground, but likewise a considerable interest upon a considerable principal?’

‘How?’

‘Look, sir,’ said he, taking a bit of red chalk from his pocket, and figuring against a whitewashed wall, ‘twenty times eight is so and so; then forty-two times thirty-nine is so and so—ain’t it, sir? Well, add those together, and subtract this here, then that makes so and so,’ still chalking away.

To be brief, after no small ciphering, Mr Scribe informed me that my chimney contained, I am ashamed to say how many thousand and odd valuable bricks.

‘No more,’ said I fidgetting. ‘Pray now, let us have a look above.’

In that upper zone we made two more circumnavigations for the first and second floors. That done, we stood together at the foot of the stairway by the front door; my hand upon the knob, and Mr Scribe hat in hand.

‘Well, sir,’ said he, a sort of feeling his way, and, to help himself, fumbling with his hat, ‘well, sir, I think it can be done.’

‘What, pray, Mr Scribe; what can be done?’

‘Your chimney, sir; it can without rashness be removed, I think.’

‘I will think of it, too, Mr Scribe,’ said I, turning the knob, and bowing him towards the open space without, ‘I will think of it, sir; it demands consideration; much obliged to ye; good morning, Mr Scribe.’

‘It is all arranged, then,’ cried my wife with great glee, bursting from the nighest room.

‘When will they begin?’ demanded my daughter Julia.

‘Tomorrow?’ asked Anna.

‘Patience, patience, my dears,’ said I, ‘such a big chimney is not to be abolished in a minute.’

Next morning it began again.

‘You remember the chimney,’ said my wife.

‘Wife,’ said I, ‘it is never out of my house, and never out of my mind.’

‘But when is Mr Scribe to begin to pull it down?’ asked Anna.

‘Not today, Anna,’ said I.

‘When, then?’ demanded Julia, in alarm.