ll, and with several lively expressions of displeasure, turned upon
him instantly.

'Now, STOO-PID!' cried the young gentleman. 'Can't you look where you're
a-going to--eh? Can't you mind where you're a-coming to--eh? What do you
think your eyes was made for--eh? Ah! Yes. Oh! Now then!'

The young gentleman pronounced the two last words in a very loud tone
and with frightful emphasis, as though they contained within themselves
the essence of the direst aggravation. But he had scarcely done so, when
his anger yielded to surprise, and he cried, in a milder tone:

'What! Polly!'

'Why, it an't you, sure!' cried Poll. 'It can't be you!'

'No. It an't me,' returned the youth. 'It's my son, my oldest one. He's
a credit to his father, an't he, Polly?' With this delicate little
piece of banter, he halted on the pavement, and went round and round
in circles, for the better exhibition of his figure; rather to the
inconvenience of the passengers generally, who were not in an equal
state of spirits with himself.

'I wouldn't have believed it,' said Poll. 'What! You've left your old
place, then? Have you?'

'Have I!' returned his young friend, who had by this time stuck his
hands into the pockets of his white cord breeches, and was swaggering
along at the barber's side. 'D'ye know a pair of top-boots when you see
'em, Polly?--look here!'

'Beau-ti-ful' cried Mr Sweedlepipe.

'D'ye know a slap-up sort of button, when you see it?' said the youth.
'Don't look at mine, if you ain't a judge, because these lions' heads
was made for men of taste; not snobs.'

'Beau-ti-ful!' cried the barber again. 'A grass-green frock-coat, too,
bound with gold; and a cockade in your hat!'

'I should hope so,' replied the youth. 'Blow the cockade, though; for,
except that it don't turn round, it's like the wentilator that used to
be in the kitchen winder at Todgers's. You ain't seen the old lady's
name in the Gazette, have you?'

'No,' returned the barber. 'Is she a bankrupt?'

'If she ain't, she will be,' retorted Bailey. 'That bis'ness never can
be carried on without ME. Well! How are you?'

'Oh! I'm pretty well,' said Poll. 'Are you living at this end of the
town, or were you coming to see me? Was that the bis'ness that brought
you to Holborn?'

'I haven't got no bis'ness in Holborn,' returned Bailey, with some
displeasure. 'All my bis'ness lays at the West End. I've got the right
sort of governor now. You can't see his face for his w