he shouldn't employ me no more. I durstn't go and offend yer par;
he's a good customer to me, he is."

"I'll give you a sovereign to do it," said Paul.

"If yer wouldn't tell no tales, I might put yer down at the corner
p'raps," said Clegg, hesitating, to Paul's joy; "not as it ain't cheap
at that, but let's see yer suffering fust. Why," he cried with lofty
contempt as he saw from Paul's face that the coin was not producible,
"y'ain't got no suffering! Garn away, and don't try to tempt a pore
cabby as has his livin' to make. What d'ye think of this, porter, now?
'Ere's a young gent a tryin' to back out o' going to school when he
ought to be glad and thankful as he's receivin' the blessin's of a good
eddication. Look at me. I'm a 'ard-workin' man. I am. I ain't 'ad no
eddication. The kids, they're a learnin' French, and free'and drorin,
and the bones on a skellington at the Board School, and I pays my
coppers down every week cheerful. And why, porter? Why, young master?
'Cause I knows the vally on it! But when I sees a real young gent a
despisin' of the oppertoonities as a bountiful Providence and a
excellent par has 'eaped on his 'ed, it--it makes me sick, it inspires
Clegg with a pity and a contemp' for such ingratitood, which he cares
not for to 'ide from public voo!"

Clegg delivered this harangue with much gesture and in a loud tone,
which greatly edified the porters and disgusted Mr. Bultitude.

"Go away," said the latter, "that's enough. You're drunk!"

"Drunk!" bellowed the outraged Clegg, rising on the box in his wrath.
"'Ear that. 'Ark at this 'ere young cock sparrer as tells a fam'ly man
like Clegg as he's drunk! Drunk, after drivin' his par in this 'ere
werry cab through frost and fine fifteen year and more! I wonder yer
don't say the old 'orse is drunk; you'll be sayin' that next! Drunk! oh,
cert'nly, by all means. Never you darken my cab doors no more. I shall
take and tell your par, I shall. Drunk, indeed! A ill-conditioned young
wiper as ever I see. Drunk! yah!"

And with much cursing and growling, Clegg gathered up his reins and
drove off into the fog, Boaler having apparently pre-paid the fare.

"Where for, sir, please?" said a porter, who had been putting the
playbox and portmanteau on a truck during the altercation.

"Nowhere," said Mr. Bultitude. "I--I'm not going by this train; find me
a cab with a sober driver."

The porter looked round. A moment before there had been several cabs
discha