e and friendly sentiments were expressed by the
others and suitably acknowledged by Philpot, the founder of the feast.

The Old Dear now put a penny in the slot of the polyphone, and winding
it up started it playing. It was some unfamiliar tune, but when the
Semi-drunk Painter heard it he rose unsteadily to his feet and began
shuffling and dancing about, singing:

'Oh, we'll inwite you to the wedding,
An' we'll 'ave a glorious time!
Where the boys an' girls is a-dancing,
An' we'll all get drunk on wine.'

''Ere! that's quite enough o' that!' cried the landlord, roughly. 'We
don't want that row 'ere.'

The Semi-drunk stopped, and looking stupidly at the Old Dear, sank
abashed on to the seat again.

'Well, we may as well sit as stand--for a few minutes,' remarked Crass,
suiting the action to the word. The others followed his example.

At frequent intervals the bar was entered by fresh customers, most of
them working men on their way home, who ordered and drank their pint or
half-pint of ale or porter and left at once. Bundy began reading the
advertisement of the circus and menageries and a conversation ensued
concerning the wonderful performances of the trained animals. The Old
Dear said that some of them had as much sense as human beings, and the
manner with which he made this statement implied that he thought it was
a testimonial to the sagacity of the brutes. He further said that he
had heard--a little earlier in the evening--a rumour that one of the
wild animals, a bear or something, had broken loose and was at present
at large. This was what he had heard--he didn't know if it were true
or not. For his own part he didn't believe it, and his hearers agreed
that it was highly improbable. Nobody ever knew how these silly yarns
got about.

Presently the Besotted Wretch got up and, taking the india-rubber rings
out of the net with a trembling hand, began throwing them one at a time
at the hooks on the board. The rest of the company watched him with
much interest, laughing when he made a very bad shot and applauding
when he scored.

''E's a bit orf tonight,' remarked Philpot aside to Easton, 'but as a
rule 'e's a fair knockout at it. Throws a splendid ring.'

The Semidrunk regarded the proceedings of the Besotted Wretch with an
expression of profound contempt.

'You can't play for nuts,' he said scornfully.

'Can't I? I can play you,