It must be Bent's brass!" "What's Popsie say ?" asked one of the younger members of the party, winking at the barmaid, who, having supplied her customers' needs, was leaning over a copy of the handbill which somebody had laid on the bar.
"Whose brass can it be, Popsie ?" The barmaid stood up, seized a glass and a cloth, and began to polish the glass with vigor.
"What's Popsie say ?" she repeated.

"Why, what she says is that you're a lot of donkeys for wasting your time in wondering whose brass it is.
What does it matter whose brass it is, so long as it's safe?
What you want to do is to try and earn it.

You don't pick up five hundred pounds every day!" "She's right!" said some man of the group.

"But--how does anybody start on to them games ?" "There'll be plenty o' starters, for all that, my lads!" observed the little tradesman.

"Never you fear! There'll be candidates." Stoner drank off his ale and went away.