nd the crumbs were
about an inch deep all over the place. When he got near the end of bun
Number 1, he looked up as near choking as they make them, and said--

"I like buns awfully."

"All right, have another," said I. You see as his governor was going to
meet him in town, it didn't matter much to me if he got gripes at night.
Anything to keep him quiet.

After the third bun he was about full up, and said he was thirsty. I
couldn't make the young ass understand that I had no water in the
carriage. He kept on saying he was thirsty for half an hour, till we
came to a station. I had made up my mind I would get into another
carriage at the first stop we came to; but, somehow, it seemed rather
low to leave the kid in the lurch. So I bought him a glass of milk
instead, which set him up again. Nobody else got in the carriage--knew
better--and off we went again.

He'd got an awful lot to say for himself; about dicky-birds and puff-
puffs, and dogs, and trouser-pockets and rot of that sort, and didn't
seem to care much whether I listened or no. Then, just when I thought
he had about run dry and was getting sleepy, he rounded on me with--

"Tell me a story."

"Me? I don't know any stories."

"Oh yes; a funny one, please."

"I tell you I don't know any--what about?"

"`The Three Bears.'"

"I don't know anything about `three bears,'" said I.

"Do! do!! do!!!" he said, beginning to get crusty.

So I did my best. He kept saying I was all wrong, and putting me right;
he might just as well have told it himself. I told him so. But he took
no notice, and went on badgering me for more stories.

I can tell you I was getting sick of it!

When I made up a story for him to laugh at, he looked so solemn and
said--

"Not that; a funny one."

And when I told him a fairy tale, he snapped up and said he didn't like
it.

It ended in my telling him the "The Three Bears" over and over again.
It was about the sixty-fifth time of telling that we got to Vauxhall,
and had to give up tickets.

"Now, young 'un, look out for your governor when we get in--I don't know
him, you know."

The young ass didn't know what I meant.

"Look out for daddy, then," I said.

He promptly stuck his head out of the window and said the ticket-
collector was daddy; then that the porter was; then that a sweep on the
platform was.

It wasn't very hopeful for spotting the real daddy at Waterloo. I told
him to shut up and wait till we go