he lively man,
shouldering his shovel and resuming his walk beside his gloomy comrade,
who neither smiled nor frowned at these pleasantries.

"A warm old g'n'l'm'n!" remarked the boy in the man's hat as he passed.

The lively man nodded and winked.

"Might eat his wittles raw an' cook 'em inside a'most!" continued the
boy; "would advise him to keep out of 'yde Park, though, for fear he'd
git too near the powder-magazine!"

At this point the gloomy rough--who did not appear, however, to be a
genuine rough, but a pretty good imitation of one, made of material that
had once seen better days--stopped, and said to his comrade that he was
tired of that sort of work, and would bid him good-day. Without waiting
for an answer he walked away, and his companion, without vouchsafing a
reply, looked after him with a sneer.

"A rum cove!" he remarked to the small boy in the man's hat, as he
continued his progress.

"Rayther," replied the boy.

With this interchange of sentiment these casual acquaintances parted, to
meet probably no more!

Meanwhile the gloomy rough, whom the lively one had called Ned, walked
with rapid steps along several streets, as though he had a distinct
purpose in view. He turned at last into a narrow, quiet street, and
going up to the door of a shabby-genteel house, applied the knocker with
considerable vigour.

"Now then, go along with you; we don't want _your_ services here; we
clear off our own snow, we do. Imprence! to knock, too, as if he was a
gentleman!"

This was uttered by a servant-girl who had thrust her head out of a
second-floor window to take an observation of the visitor before going
down to open the door.

"Is he at home, Betsy dear?" inquired the gloomy man, looking up with a
leer which proved that he could be the reverse of gloomy when he chose.

"Oh, it's you, is it? I don't think he wants to see you; indeed, I'm
sure of it," said the girl.

"Yes he does, dear; at all events I want to see him; and, Betsy, say
it's pressing business, and _not_ beggin'."

Betsy disappeared, and soon after, reappearing at the door, admitted the
man, whom she ushered into a small apartment, which was redolent of
tobacco, and in which sat a young man slippered and dressing-gowned,
taking breakfast.

"How are you, doctor?" said the visitor, in a tone that did not accord
with his soiled and ragged garments, as he laid down his hat and shovel,
and flung himself into a chair.

"None the bette