as fast
as they could. I will say't they didn't let the grass grow under their
feet."

"And why," enquired the Don, with an amused smile, "were you so anxious
to keep it out of the _Times_? Mrs. Bumpkin doesn't read the _Times_,
does she?"

"Why, no; but then the Squoire tak it in, and when eve done wi un he
lends un to the Doctor, Mr. Gossip; and when he gets hold o' anything,
away it goes to the Parish Clerk, Mr. Jeerum, and then thee med as well
hire the town crier at once."

"I see; but if you'll excuse me, Mr. Bumpkin, I will give you a bit of
information that may be of service."

"Thankee, sir; will thee jist tak a little more to wet the tother eye
like."

"Well, really," replied O'Rapley, "it is long past my hour of nocturnal
repose."

"What, sir? I doant ondustand."

"I mean to say that I generally hook it off to bed before this."

"Zackly; but we'll 'ave another. Your leave, sir, thee was going to tell
I zummat."

"O yes," said Mr. O'Rapley, with a wave of the hand in imitation of the
Lord Chief Justice. "I was going to say that those two men were a couple
of rogues."

Mr. Bumpkin paused in the act of passing the tumbler to his lips, like
one who feels he has been artfully taken in.

"You've been done, sir!" said Mr. O'Rapley emphatically, "that man who
said he was the _Times_ was no more the _Times_ than you're _Punch_."

"Nor thic _Telegrarf_ feller!"

"No. And you could prosecute them. And I'll tell you what you could
prosecute them for." Mr. Bumpkin looked almost stupified.

"I'll tell you what these villains have been guilty of; they've been
guilty of obtaining money by false pretences, and conspiring to obtain
money by false pretences."

"Have um?" said Bumpkin.

"And you can prosecute them. You've only got to go and put the matter in
the hands of the police, and then go to some first-rate solicitor who
attends police courts; now I can recommend you one that will do you
justice. I should like to see these rascals well punished."

"And will this fust-rate attorney do un for nothin'?"

"Why, hardly; any more than you would sell him a pig for nothing."

"Then I shan't prosekit," said Mr. Bumpkin; "the devil's in't, I be no
sooner out o' one thing than I be into another--why I beant out o' thic
watch job yet, for I got to 'pear at the Old Bailey on the
twenty-fourth."

"O, committed for trial, was he?" exclaimed the Don.

"Sure wur ur," said Mr. Bumpkin triumphantly--"gu