much-vexed Walter.

In vain did he ask Chris where he was going, and what he meant to
do--not a word could he extract. The other lad stalked on, looking
every now and then at the printed directions on the walls, telling
whither each turning led.

He reached a sort of entrance-place at last, where there were the same
kind of turnstiles as those through which Mr. Richardson had brought
his party in the morning.

"Way out" was written above one. Without a word to his companion,
Chris went through it.

"But, Chris, that takes us outside. What _are_ you doing?" cried
Walter.

"I know what I'm about," answered the other. "Are you coming or not
I? I can't wait all day. You'll never find your way back to the others
alone. You'd a deal better stick to me that knows the way."

Walter looked round despairingly.

"What shall I do?" he said to himself. "I _wish_ I hadn't come with
Chris. He's so cross and disagreeable, it's no fun to be with him; but
I could no more find my way back through all those twists and turns
than fly. I suppose I must keep with him now," and he went through the
turnstile and caught up his friend, who had grown tired of waiting and
had gone on some way.

"Oh, you've come, have you?" said he, as Walter came running up. "I
thought you liked best wandering about all proper and lonely inside
that fine place you seem so fond of."

Walter made no reply, but walked by the side of his companion, who
marched along as if he knew very well what he wanted, and meant to
have it.

At length they came to a street corner, where they saw written up,
"Crystal Palace Arms."

"Now, here's just the place for me," cried Chris, pushing the door
open and going in.

Walter, though he felt more uncomfortable than ever, saw no choice but
to follow.

"Me and my pal wants a glass of beer," said Chris loudly, throwing
down a sixpence with the air of one who had plenty more.

"No, I don't want any, thanks, Chris," interrupted Walter hastily.

"Then you can go without," answered Christopher, deeply offended.
"I'm not going to offer it to you again, nor anything else either, you
great hulking killjoy."

He drank off his own beer, and then had some more, and some more
again.

Walter began to feel really frightened now, for Chris was one of those
childish people who, having once begun drinking, cannot stop
themselves from taking more than is good for them.

But on this occasion, to his comrade's surprise, he did stop