roffered
wager; and his Lordship once more returned to the mirror and his
self-admiration.

"I say, O'Grady, do come here for a minute. What the deuce can that be?"

[Illustration: 2-0074]

Here an immoderate fit of laughter from his Lordship brought us both to
the window. The figure to which his attention was directed was certainly
not a little remarkable. Mounted upon an animal of the smallest possible
dimensions, sat, or rather stood, the figure of a tall, gaunt, raw-boned
looking man, in a livery of the gaudiest blue and yellow, his hat
garnished with silver lace, while long tags of the same material were
festooned gracefully from his shoulder to his breast; his feet
nearly touched the ground, and gave him rather the appearance of one
progressing with a pony between his legs, than of a figure on horseback;
he carried under one arm a leather pocket, like a despatch bag; and, as
he sauntered slowly about, with his eyes directed hither and thither,
seemed like some one in search of an unknown locality.

The roar of laughter which issued from our window drew his attention
to that quarter, and he immediately touched his hat, while a look of
pleased recognition played across his countenance. "Holloa, Tim!" cried
O'Grady, "what's in the wind now?"

Tim's answer was inaudible, but inserting his hand into the leathern
con-veniency already mentioned, he drew forth a card of most portentous
dimensions. By this time Corny's voice could be heard joining the
conversation.

"Arrah, give it here, and don't be making a baste of yourself. Isn't
the very battle-axe Guards laughing at you? I'm sure I wonder how a
Christian would make a merry-andrew of himself by wearing such clothes;
you're more like a play-actor nor a respectable servant."

With these words he snatched rather than accepted the proffered card;
and Tim, with another flourish of his hat, and a singularly droll grin,
meant to convey his appreciation of Cross Corny, plunged the spurs till
his legs met under the belly of the little animal, and cantered out of
the court-yard amid the laughter of the bystanders, in which even the
sentinels on duty could not refrain from participating.

"What the devil can it be?" cried Lord Dudley; "he evidently knows you,
O'Grady."

"And you, too, my Lord; his master has helped you to a cool hundred or
two more than once before now."

"Eh--what--you don't say so! Not our worthy friend Paul--eh? Why,
confound it, I never should