ass was Mrs. Treadwell, Michael
Ragstroar's great-aunt at Hammersmith; of the latter, Michael himself.
On the afternoon of that Wednesday in Christmas week he had conducted an
old bloke of enormous wealth, on foot, from the said bloke's residence
in Russell Square to his son-in-law's less pretentious one at Chiswick,
and had earned liberal refreshments, golden opinions, and silver coin by
his intrepidity and perception of London localities in Egyptian
darkness. And he had never so much as once asked the name of a blooming
street! So ran his communication to his great-aunt, on whom he called
afterwards; being, as he said, handy.

"Now you do like I tell you, Micky, and bank it with the Savings Bank,
and you'll live to be thankful." This referred to Micky's harphacrownd,
just earned. That was his exact pronunciation, delivered _ore
rotundissimo_, to do full justice to so large an amount.

Micky's reply was:--"Ketch me at it! I don't put no faith in any of
these here Banks, like you see at street corners. _The_ Bank, where you
go on the green bus, is another pair o' stockin's.... No--I ain't going
to put it on a 'orse. You carn't never say they ain't doctored." He went
on to express an astute mistrust of investments, owing to the bad faith
of Man, and wound up:--"The money won't run away of itself, so long as
you don't let it out of your porket." Into which receptacle Micky
returned it, slapping the same in ratification of its security.

"Then you button it in, Micky, and see you don't talk about it to no
one. Only I should have said it would be safer put by, or giv' to some
responsible person to take charge of." But Michael shook his head,
assuming a farsighted expression. He was immovable. Mrs. Treadwell
continued:--"Bein' here, I do declare you might be a useful boy, and
write _Dog Found_ large on a sheet of paper, and ask Miss Hawkins to put
it up in her window for to find the owner."

"Wot's the dog?"

"Well now, he was here a minute back! Or he run out when you come in."
Fog-retarded search discovered a woebegone refugee under the stairs; who
had been fetched in, said Mrs. Treadwell, by her puppy in the early
morning, and whom she had not had the heart to drive away.

Michael was proud to show his skill as a penman, and with his aunt's
assistance composed an intelligible announcement that the owner of a
black-and-tan terrier with one eye might recover the same on production
of some proof of ownership. Michael d