re you going on the grand stand?"

"Don't know," said Gus grandly. "We may pick up a trap in the town."

"Ho, ho! going to do it flash, are you? Well, there's one of you could
do with a little spice," added he, glancing at Charlie. "I suppose my
trap's not grand enough for you."

"Can you give us a lift, then, Bill?" asked Gus, charmed at the idea.

"Yes, to be sure; I've no company to-day. There's just room. Hop in.
I may as well turn an honest penny as not. Here, you young sinner, jump
up beside me on the box." And before Charlie knew where he was or
whither he was going he found himself on the box of the waggonette
beside the flash youth, and his four friends behind him inside.

"Who's your friend, Gus?" he heard Margetson ask.

"Son of Belsham, who keeps the `Green Tiger' at Randlebury. We're in
luck, I can tell you, you fellows."

As Charlie gradually recovered from his bewilderment he felt himself
extremely uncomfortable and ill at ease. From what had been said he had
gathered that the object of the boys in going to Gurley was something
more than to see the town; and he by no means liked Gus's new friend, or
approved of his easy familiarity with a low publican's son. It was not
long before his dawning suspicions were fully confirmed.

"So you're going to see the races?" asked Mr Belsham.

"No, I'm not," replied Charlie, as curtly as he could, for he had no
desire to encourage the conversation of this objectionable person.

"Ain't you? And what are you going to do, then, my young lamb?" And in
the course of this brief sentence Mr Belsham succeeded in interjecting
at least three oaths.

"I shan't speak to you if you swear," said Charlie; "it's wrong to
swear."

"No! is it? Who says that?"

"My father says so," blurted out Charlie, fully satisfied that no better
reason could be demanded.

Belsham laughed, and turning to the four inside, said,--

"I say, young gentlemen, this young pippin tells me he's got a father
who says it's wrong to swear. What do you think of that?"

"His father must be an amusing man," replied Gus.

"Wait till we get on to the course," said Margetson; "he'll hear
something to astonish him there, young prig!"

"I'm not going to the races!" cried my master, starting from his seat,
and now fully alive to the fraud of which he had been made the victim.
"How could you do this, Tom Drift! Let me down, will you!" and he
struggled so desperately with Belsham that tha