n the pipes and performed an
air. Then the entertainment began as soon as might be; Mr Codlin
having the responsibility of deciding on its length and of protracting
or expediting the time for the hero's final triumph over the enemy of
mankind, according as he judged that the after-crop of half-pence would
be plentiful or scant. When it had been gathered in to the last
farthing, he resumed his load and on they went again.

Sometimes they played out the toll across a bridge or ferry, and once
exhibited by particular desire at a turnpike, where the collector,
being drunk in his solitude, paid down a shilling to have it to
himself. There was one small place of rich promise in which their
hopes were blighted, for a favourite character in the play having
gold-lace upon his coat and being a meddling wooden-headed fellow was
held to be a libel on the beadle, for which reason the authorities
enforced a quick retreat; but they were generally well received, and
seldom left a town without a troop of ragged children shouting at their
heels.

They made a long day's journey, despite these interruptions, and were
yet upon the road when the moon was shining in the sky. Short beguiled
the time with songs and jests, and made the best of everything that
happened. Mr Codlin on the other hand, cursed his fate, and all the
hollow things of earth (but Punch especially), and limped along with
the theatre on his back, a prey to the bitterest chagrin.

They had stopped to rest beneath a finger-post where four roads met,
and Mr Codlin in his deep misanthropy had let down the drapery and
seated himself in the bottom of the show, invisible to mortal eyes and
disdainful of the company of his fellow creatures, when two monstrous
shadows were seen stalking towards them from a turning in the road by
which they had come. The child was at first quite terrified by the
sight of these gaunt giants--for such they looked as they advanced with
lofty strides beneath the shadow of the trees--but Short, telling her
there was nothing to fear, blew a blast upon the trumpet, which was
answered by a cheerful shout.

'It's Grinder's lot, an't it?' cried Mr Short in a loud key.

'Yes,' replied a couple of shrill voices.

'Come on then,' said Short. 'Let's have a look at you. I thought it
was you.'

Thus invited, 'Grinder's lot' approached with redoubled speed and soon
came up with the little party.

Mr Grinder's company, familiarly termed a lot, consis