Hoots, Mr. Baigrey," said he, "you surely forget what day it is!"

"I tell you I have no change!" cried John.

"Well," said the driver, "and what then? I would rather give a man a
shillin' on a day like this than put him off with a derision like a
bawbee. I'm surprised at the like of you, Mr. Baigrey!"

"My name is not Baigrey!" broke out John, in mere childish temper and
distress.

"Ye told me it was yoursel'," said the cabman.

"I know I did; and what the devil right had you to ask?" cried the
unhappy one.

"O very well," said the driver. "I know my place, if you know yours--if
you know yours!" he repeated, as one who should imply grave doubts; and
muttered inarticulate thunders, in which the grand old name of gentleman
was taken seemingly in vain.

O to have been able to discharge this monster, whom John now perceived,
with tardy clear-sightedness, to have begun betimes the festivities of
Christmas! But far from any such ray of consolation visiting the lost,
he stood bare of help and helpers, his portmanteau sequestered in one
place, his money deserted in another and guarded by a corpse; himself,
so sedulous of privacy, the cynosure of all men's eyes about the
station; and, as if these were not enough mischances, he was now fallen
in ill-blood with the beast to whom his poverty had linked him! In
ill-blood, as he reflected dismally, with the witness who perhaps might
hang or save him! There was no time to be lost; he durst not linger any
longer in that public spot; and whether he had recourse to dignity or to
conciliation, the remedy must be applied at once. Some happily surviving
element of manhood moved him to the former.

"Let us have no more of this," said he, his foot once more upon the
step. "Go back to where we came from."

He had avoided the name of any destination, for there was now quite a
little band of railway folk about the cab, and he still kept an eye upon
the court of justice, and laboured to avoid concentric evidence. But
here again the fatal jarvey out-manoeuvred him.

"Back to the Ludge?" cried he, in shrill tones of protest.

"Drive on at once!" roared John, and slammed the door behind him, so
that the crazy chariot rocked and jingled.

Forth trundled the cab into the Christmas streets, the fare within
plunged in the blackness of a despair that neighboured on
unconsciousness, the driver on the box digesting his rebuke and his
customer's duplicity. I would not be thought to put the pa