all paper bag that had 'ad sugar
in it and shaking them up, "Number I wins the prize. Who's going to draw
fust?"

All of 'em hung back and looked at each other; they all seemed to think
they'd 'ave a better chance when there wasn't so many numbers left in the
bag.

"Come on," ses Smith, the landlord. "Some-body must be fust."

"Go on, George Kettle," ses Bob Pretty. "You're sure to win. I 'ad a
dream you did."

"Go on yourself," ses George.

"I never 'ave no luck," ses Bob; "but if Henery Walker will draw fust,
I'll draw second. Somebody must begin."

"O' course they must," ses Henery, "and if you're so anxious why don't
you 'ave fust try?"

Bob Pretty tried to laugh it off, but they wouldn't 'ave it, and at last
he takes out a pocket-'andkerchief and offers it to Smith, the landlord.

"All right, I'll go fust if you'll blindfold me," he ses.

"There ain't no need for that, Bob," ses Mr. Smith. "You can't see in
the bag, and even if you could it wouldn't help you."

"Never mind; you blindfold me," ses Bob; "it'll set a good example to the
others."

Smith did it at last, and when Bob Pretty put his 'and in the bag and
pulled out a paper you might ha' heard a pin drop.

"Open it and see what number it is, Mr. Smith," ses Bob Pretty. "Twenty-
three, I expect; I never 'ave no luck."

Smith rolled out the paper, and then 'e turned pale and 'is eyes seemed
to stick right out of his 'ead.

"He's won it!" he ses, in a choky voice. "It's Number I. Bob Pretty
'as won the prize."

[Illustration: "He's won it!" he ses, in a choky voice.
"It's Number I."]

You never 'eard such a noise in this 'ere public-'ouse afore or since;
everybody shouting their 'ardest, and Bill Chambers stamping up and down
the room as if he'd gone right out of his mind.

"Silence!" ses Mr. Smith, at last. "Silence! How dare you make that
noise in my 'ouse, giving it a bad name? Bob Pretty 'as won it fair and
square. Nothing could ha' been fairer. You ought to be ashamed o'
yourselves."

Bob Pretty wouldn't believe it at fust. He said that Smith was making
game of 'im, and, when Smith held the paper under 'is nose, he kept the
handkerchief on his eyes and wouldn't look at it.

"I've seen you afore to-day," he says, nodding his 'ead. "I like a joke
as well as anybody, but it ain't fair to try and make fun of a pore,
'ard-working man like that."

I never see a man so astonished in my life as Bob Pretty was, when 'e