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weapons of his own wit.

"Hullo, puddin' 'ead," he began, "'ow's your pa and your ma to-day?
Find the Old Bailey a 'ealthy place, don't they?"

Reginald favoured the speaker by way of answer with a stare of mingled
scorn and wrath, which greatly elevated that gentleman's spirits.

"'Ow long is it they've got? Seven years, ain't it? My eye, they won't
know you when they come out, you'll be so growed."

The wrath slowly faded from Reginald's face, as the speaker proceeded,
leaving only the scorn to testify to the interest he took in this
intellectual display.

Horace, delighted to see there was no prospect of a "flare-up," smiled,
and began almost to enjoy himself.

"I say," continued Barber, just a little disappointed to find that his
exquisite humour was not as electrical in its effect as it would have
been on any one less dense than the Crudens, "'ow is it you ain't got a
clean collar on to-day, and no scent on your 'andkerchers--eh?"

This was getting feeble. Even Mr Barber felt it, for he continued, in
a more lively tone,--

"Glad we ain't got many of your sickening sort 'ere; snivelling school-
boy brats, that's what you are, tired of pickin' pockets, and think
you're goin' to show us your manners. Yah! if you wasn't such a dirty
ugly pair of puppy dogs I'd stick you under the pump--so I would."

Reginald yawned, and walked off to watch a compositor picking up type
out of a case. Horace, on the other hand, appeared to be deeply
interested in Mr Barber's eloquent observations, and inquired quite
artlessly, but with a twinkle in his eye,--"Is the pump near here? I
was looking for it everywhere yesterday."

It was Mr Barber's turn to stare. He had not expected this, and he did
not like it, especially when one or two of the men and boys near, who
had failed to be convulsed by his wit, laughed at Horace's question.

After all, moral flagellation does not always answer, and when one of
the victims yawns and the other asks a matter-of-fact questions it is
disconcerting even to an accomplished operator. However, Barber
gallantly determined on one more effort.

"Ugh--trying to be funny, are you, Mr Snubnose? Best try and be honest
if you can, you and your mealy-mug brother. It'll be 'ard work, I know,
to keep your 'ands in your own pockets, but you'd best do it, do you
'ear--pair of psalm-singin' twopenny-ha'penny puppy dogs!"

This picturesque peroration certainly deserved some recognition, and
m