moments of abstraction inquired which way Kit was
driving, and, being informed, declared it was his way, and
that he would trespass on him for a lift. Kit would gladly
have declined the proffered honour, but as Mr. Swiveller
was already established in the seat beside him, he had no
means of doing so otherwise than by a forcible ejectment,
and therefore drove briskly off--so briskly indeed as to cut
short the leave-taking between Mr. Chuckster and his
Grand Master, and to occasion the former gentleman some
inconvenience from having his corns squeezed by the im-
patient pony.

As Whisker was tired of standing, and Mr. Swiveller
was kind enough to stimulate him still further by shrill
whistles, and various sporting cries, they rattled off at too
sharp a pace to admit of much conversation, especially as
the pony, incensed by Mr. Swiveller's admonitions, took
a particular fancy for the lamp-posts and cart-wheels, and
evinced a strong desire to run on the pavement and rasp
himself against brick walls. It was not, therefore, until
they had arrived at the stable, and the chaise had been
extricated from a very small doorway, into which the pony
dragged it under the impression that he would take it along
with him into his usual stall, that Mr. Swiveller found time
to talk.

"It's hard work," said Richard. "What do you say
to some beer?"

Kit at first declined, but presently consented, and they
adjourned to the neighbouring bar together.

"We'll drink our friend what's-his-name," said Dick,
holding up the bright frothy pot; "--that was talking to
you this morning, you know--I know him--a good fellow,
but eccentric--very--here's what's-his-name!"

Kit pledged him.

"He lives in my house," said Dick; "at least in the
house occupied by the firm in which I'm a sort of a--of a
managing partner--a difficult fellow to get anything out of,
but we like him--we like him."

"I must be going, sir, if you please," said Kit, moving
away.

"Don't be in a hurry, Christopher," replied his patron,
"we'll drink your mother."

"Thank you, sir."

"An excellent woman, that mother of yours, Chris-
topher," said Mr. Swiveller. "Who ran to catch me when

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