k of his coat his favourite
illustration, to wit, a skull and cross-bones.

"Isn't that our Charlie?" said she to her daughter, surveying the crowd of
noisy boys through her eye-glass. "I really believe it is--that is
certainly our livery; pull the check-string, and stop the carriage."

Now Robberts had been pressed into service in consequence of Charlie's
absence, and was in no very good humour at being compelled to air his
rheumatic old shins behind the family-carriage. It can therefore be readily
imagined with what delight he recognized the delinquent footman amidst the
crowd, and with what alacrity he descended and pounced upon him just at the
most critical moment of the game. Clutching fast hold of him by the
collar of his coat, he dragged him to the carriage-window, and held him
before the astonished eyes of his indignant mistress, who lifted up her
hands in horror at the picture he presented. "Oh! you wretched boy," said
she, "just look at your clothes, all covered with chalk-marks and
bespattered with lime! Your livery is totally ruined--and your knees,
too--only look at them--the dirt is completely ground into them."

"But you haven't seed his back, marm," said Robberts; "he's got the
pirate's flag drawn on it. That boy'll go straight to the devil--I know he
will."

All this time Charlie, to his great discomfiture, was being shaken and
turned about by Robberts in the most unceremonious manner. Kinch, with his
usual audacity, was meanwhile industriously engaged in tracing on Robbert's
coat a similar picture to that he had so skilfully drawn on Charlie's, to
the great delight of a crowd of boys who stood admiring spectators of his
artistic performances. The coachman, however, observing this operation,
brought it to a rather hasty conclusion by a well directed cut of the whip
across the fingers of the daring young artist. This so enraged Kinch, that
in default of any other missile, he threw his lime-covered cap at the head
of the coachman; but, unfortunately for himself, the only result of his
exertions was the lodgment of his cap in the topmost bough of a
neighbouring tree, from whence it was rescued with great difficulty.

"What _shall_ we do with him?" asked Mrs. Thomas, in a despairing tone, as
she looked at Charlie.

"Put him with the coachman," suggested Mrs. Morton.

"He can't sit there, the horses are so restive, and the seat is only
constructed for one, and he would be in the coachman's way. I suppo