e.

Horncastle, who had recovered from his temporary fright for the cooling
of his sausages, was specially loud in his remonstrances.

"It's no use your coming here," he said, advancing in a menacing way
towards Jack on his arrival. "We aren't going to have you--there!"

And with that, as in my case, he emphasised his remark with a smart kick
on Jack's shins.

Jack was not a short-tempered fellow, but this unprovoked assault
startled him out of his usual composure.

"You'd better not do that again," said he, glaring at his adversary.

Horncastle did _not_ do it again. I don't know what it was, but at
those words, and the glare that accompanied them, his foot, already
raised for further action, dropped quietly beside the other.

"I shall do it again if I choose," he said surlily.

"Then you'd better not choose," quietly said Jack.

"You've got no business here, that's what I say," exclaimed Horncastle,
falling back upon a safer line of attack.

"Why haven't I?" said Jack. "I'm a clerk like you."

"And you call yourself a gentleman too, I suppose?" sneered the other.

Jack always fired up when any reference of this kind was made.

"I don't want _you_ to tell me whether I am," he retorted.

"Why, he's a regular cad," cried some one. "I know him well; I saw him
selling penn'orths of nuts a week or two ago in the Borough."

"You hear that," said Horncastle, turning to Jack. "Was it so?"

"I don't see what it's got to do with you," replied Jack; "but if you
want to know, I was."

"I thought so! I thought so!" exclaimed Horncastle; "a wretched shop-
boy! Ugh! get away from me."

And by one consent the company followed the example of their leader and
left poor Jack isolated in a corner of the room, with only me to stand
by him.

But he was not greatly afflicted by the incident, and made no attempt to
assert his rights further. And after all we got on very well and had a
very jolly evening without the help of Mr Horncastle and his friends,
and slept quite as soundly after our day's excitement as if we had been
in the wholesale line all our lives.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

HOW MY FRIEND SMITH AND I CAUGHT A YOUNG TARTAR.

The novelty of our life in London soon began to wear off. For the first
week or so I thought I never should grow weary of the wonderful streets
and shops and crowds of people. And the work at the office, while it
was fresh, appeared--especially when enlivened by the pranks of my