name was Mr. Moffat, and his present
occupation was that of doorkeeper at a gambling-house in Covent Garden;
where, though he saw many thousands pass daily under his eyes, his own
salary amounted to no more than four-and-sixpence weekly,--a sum quite
insufficient to maintain him in the rank which he held.

Mr. Moffat had, however, received some funds--amounting indeed, to a
matter of twelve guineas--within the last month, and was treating Mrs.
Briggs very generously to the concert. It may be as well to say that
every one of the twelve guineas had come out of Mrs. Polly's own pocket;
who, in return, had received them from Mr. Billings. And as the reader
may remember that, on the day of Tommy's first interview with his
father, he had previously paid a visit to Mrs. Briggs, having under
his arm a pair of breeches, which Mrs. Briggs coveted--he should now be
informed that she desired these breeches, not for pincushions, but for
Mr. Moffat, who had long been in want of a pair.

Having thus episodically narrated Mr. Moffat's history, let us state
that he, his lady, and their friends, passed before the Count's arbour,
joining in a melodious chorus to a song which one of the society, an
actor of Betterton's, was singing:

"'Tis my will, when I'm dead, that no tear shall be shed,
No 'Hic jacet' be graved on my stone;
But pour o'er my ashes a bottle of red,
And say a good fellow is gone,
My brave boys!
And say a good fellow is gone."

"My brave boys" was given with vast emphasis by the party; Mr. Moffat
growling it in a rich bass, and Mrs. Briggs in a soaring treble. As to
the notes, when quavering up to the skies, they excited various emotions
among the people in the gardens. "Silence them blackguards!" shouted a
barber, who was taking a pint of small beer along with his lady. "Stop
that there infernal screeching!" said a couple of ladies, who were
sipping ratafia in company with two pretty fellows.

"Dang it, it's Polly!" said Mr. Tom Billings, bolting out of the box,
and rushing towards the sweet-voiced Mrs. Briggs. When he reached her,
which he did quickly, and made his arrival known by tipping Mrs. Briggs
slightly on the waist, and suddenly bouncing down before her and her
friend, both of the latter drew back somewhat startled.

"Law, Mr. Billings!" says Mrs. Polly, rather coolly, "is it you? Who
thought of seeing you here?"

"Who's this here young feller?" says towerin