ngs ain't too poor for you," said
Anthony.

"Uncle, I can't. I have been unwell. I cannot walk far. Will you take me
to some quiet place?"

"Will you treat me to a cab?" Anthony sneered vehemently.

"I have left off riding, uncle."

"What! Hulloa!" Anthony sang out. "Cash is down in the mouth at home, is
it? Tell me that, now?"

Dahlia dropped her eyelids, and then entreated him once more to conduct
her to a quiet place where they might sit together, away from noise. She
was very earnest and very sad, not seeming to have much strength.

"Do you mind taking my arm?" said Anthony.

She leaned her hand on his arm, and he dived across the road with her,
among omnibuses and cabs, shouting to them through the roar,--

"We're the Independence on two legs, warranted sound, and no
competition;" and saying to Dahlia: "Lor' bless you! there's no retort
in 'em, or I'd say something worth hearing. It's like poking lions in
cages with raw meat, afore you get a chaffing-match out o' them. Some
of 'em know me. They'd be good at it, those fellows. I've heard of
good things said by 'em. But there they sit, and they've got no
circulation--ain't ready, except at old women, or when they catch you in
a mess, and getting the worst of it. Let me tell you; you'll never
get manly chaff out of big bundles o' fellows with ne'er an atom o'
circulation. The river's the place for that. I've heard uncommon good
things on the river--not of 'em, but heard 'em. T' other's most part
invention. And, they tell me, horseback's a prime thing for chaff.
Circulation, again. Sharp and lively, I mean; not bawl, and answer
over your back--most part impudence, and nothing else--and then out
of hearing. That sort o' chaff's cowardly. Boys are stiff young
parties--circulation--and I don't tackle them pretty often, 'xcept when
I'm going like a ball among nine-pins. It's all a matter o' circulation.
I say, my dear," Anthony addressed her seriously, "you should never lay
hold o' my arm when you see me going my pace of an afternoon. I took you
for a thief, and worse--I did. That I did. Had you been waiting to see
me?"

"A little," Dahlia replied, breathless.

"You have been ill?"

"A little," she said.

"You've written to the farm? O' course you have!"

"Oh! uncle, wait," moaned Dahlia.

"But, ha' you been sick, and not written home?"

"Wait; please, wait," she entreated him.

"I'll wait," said Anthony; "but that's no improvement to queerness; and
'