g Mr. Moffat, with his bass
voice.

"It's Mr. Billings, cousin, a friend of mine," said Mrs. Polly,
beseechingly.

"Oh, cousin, if it's a friend of yours, he should know better how to
conduct himself, that's all. Har you a dancing-master, young feller,
that you cut them there capers before gentlemen?" growled Mr. Moffat;
who hated Mr. Billings, for the excellent reason that he lived upon him.

"Dancing-master be hanged!" said Mr. Billings, with becoming spirit: "if
you call me dancing-master, I'll pull your nose."

"What!" roared Mr. Moffat, "pull my nose? MY NOSE! I'll tell you what,
my lad, if you durst move me, I'll cut your throat, curse me!"

"Oh, Moffy--cousin, I mean--'tis a shame to treat the poor boy so. Go
away, Tommy; do go away; my cousin's in liquor," whimpered Madam Briggs,
who really thought that the great doorkeeper would put his threat into
execution.

"Tommy!" said Mr. Moffat, frowning horribly; "Tommy to me too? Dog,
get out of my ssss---" SIGHT was the word which Mr. Moffat intended to
utter; but he was interrupted; for, to the astonishment of his friends
and himself, Mr. Billings did actually make a spring at the monster's
nose, and caught it so firmly, that the latter could not finish his
sentence.

The operation was performed with amazing celerity; and, having concluded
it, Mr. Billings sprang back, and whisked from out its sheath that new
silver-hilted sword which his mamma had given him. "Now," said he, with
a fierce kind of calmness, "now for the throat-cutting, cousin: I'm your
man!"

How the brawl might have ended, no one can say, had the two gentlemen
actually crossed swords; but Mrs. Polly, with a wonderful presence of
mind, restored peace by exclaiming, "Hush, hush! the beaks, the beaks!"
Upon which, with one common instinct, the whole party made a rush for
the garden gates, and disappeared into the fields. Mrs. Briggs knew her
company: there was something in the very name of a constable which sent
them all a-flying.

After running a reasonable time, Mr. Billings stopped. But the great
Moffat was nowhere to be seen, and Polly Briggs had likewise vanished.
Then Tom bethought him that he would go back to his mother; but,
arriving at the gate of the gardens, was refused admittance, as he had
not a shilling in his pocket. "I've left," says Tommy, giving himself
the airs of a gentleman, "some friends in the gardens. I'm with his
Excellency the Bavarian henvy."

"Then you had bette