nt--his head drooped towards Mr. Bumpkin in a
semi-conscious manner, and he nodded three consecutive times: called for
another "seroot," lit it after many efforts, and again assuring Mr.
Bumpkin that he would do all he could towards facilitating his triumph
over Snooks, was about to depart, when his friend asked him,
confidentially, whether he had not better be at the Old Bailey when the
trial came on, in case of its being necessary to call him.

"Shurel not!" hiccupped the Don. Then he pointed his finger, and leering
at Bumpkin, repeated, "Shurel not;--jus swell cll Ch. Jussiself"--which
being interpreted meant, "Certainly not, you might just as well call the
Chief Justice himself."

"Pr'aps he'll try un?" said Bumpkin.

"Noer won't--noer won't: Chansy Juge mos likel Massr Rolls."

CHAPTER XXV.

In spite of all warnings, Joe takes his own part, not to be persuaded on
one side or the other--affecting scene between Mr. Bumpkin and his old
servant.

"Whatever can that there shoutin' be for, Mrs. Oldtimes--they be terrible
noisy."

"O," said the landlady, "somebody else has listed."

"I hope it beant that silly Joe. I warned un two or three times agin
thic feller."

"There have been several to-night," said the landlady, who had scarcely
yet recovered from the insinuations against the character of her house.

"How does thee know thic, my dear lady?"

"O, because Miss Prettyface have been in and out sewin' the colours on
all the evening, that's all. Sergeant Goodtale be the best recrootin'
sergeant ever come into a town--he'd list his own father!"

"Would ur, now?" said Bumpkin. "Beant thee afeard o' thy husband bein'
took?"

Mrs. Oldtimes shrieked with laughter, and said she wished he would list
Tom, for he wasn't any good except to sit in the chimney corner and smoke
and drink from morning to night.

"And keep up th' Army," growled the husband

"Ha, keep up the Army, indeed," said Mrs. Oldtimes; "you do your share in
that way, I grant."

Now it was quite manifest that that last cheer from the taproom was the
herald of the company's departure. There was a great scuffling and
stamping of feet as of a general clearing out, and many "good nights."
Then the big manly voice of the Sergeant said: "Nine o'clock, lads; nine
o'clock; don't oversleep yourselves; we shall have chops at eight. What
d'ye say to that, Mrs. Oldtimes?"

"As you please, Sergeant; but there's a nice piece of ham, if any wo