e's no such
things as cannibals."

"No more do I, Jemimar--did you speak, Mr Richards?" inquired Maryann,
with a sudden assumption of dignity.

The coachman, who was devotedly engaged with his fifth slice of buttered
toast, protested solemnly that he had not spoken, but admitted that he
had experienced a tendency to choke--owing to crumbs--just at the point
when Maryann happened to allude to the cannibals. Maryann had a
suspicion that the tendency to choke was owing to other causes than
crumbs; but as she could not prove her point, and as the baby Richards
took it into his head at that moment to burst into an unaccountable and
vehement fit of laughter, she merely tossed her head, and resumed her
observations.

"No, Jemimar, nothing will ever convince me that there are any savages
so depravated as to prefer a slice of 'uman flesh to a good beefsteak,
an' it's my belief that that himperent Irishman, Larry O'Ale, inwented
it all to gammon us."

"I quite agree with you, Maryhann," said Jemima, who indeed always
agreed with any proposition her friend chose to put forth; "an' I 'old
that it is contrairy to 'uman reason to imagin such beastliness, much
less to do it."

Here Richards had the temerity to observe that he wasn't quite sure that
such things were never done; "for," said he, "I 'eard Mr Osten himself
say as 'ow he'd seen 'em do it, an' surely _he_ wouldn't go for to tell
a lie." At which remark Jemima advised him to hold his tongue, and
Maryann replied, with an expression of scorn, that she wondered to 'ear
'im. Did he suppose Master Will didn't sometimes indulge in a little
'armless jesting like other people? She would have added more, but
unfortunately the crumbs got into Richards' throat again, causing that
sceptical man to grow red in the face, and give vent to sounds like mild
choking.

"'Owever," observed Jemima, "it don't matter now, as Mr William and 'is
bride are safe 'ome again, and if Mr O'Ale also was fond of a joke,
like other people, there is no 'arm in that. Poor fellow, I 'ope 'e's
well, an' Mr Bunco too, though he _is_ a Red Hindian."

"'Ear 'ear!" said Richards, suddenly seizing his cup; "let us drink
their 'ealth, an' the 'ealth of all their comrades, for this is the last
night of the year, an' by all accounts they won't likely be spendin' it
in the midst o' such comforts an' blessin's as we does. Come, lasses,
drink it merrily, fill yer glasses, let the teapot circle round."

The