The distance he had to go being considerable, he travelled the latter
part of the way by omnibus. Chancing to be in a meditative frame of
mind that day, he climbed to the roof of the 'bus, and sat down with his
hands thrust deep into his pockets, and his eyes deep into futurity.
Whether he saw much there I cannot tell, but after wandering for some
time in that unknown region, his eyes returned to surrounding things,
and, among other objects, alighted on the 'bus conductor, whose head was
within a few inches of his toe. It was the head of the Slogger!

That eccentric individual, having sprung up in a few months from the
condition of a big boy to that of an exceedingly young man, had obtained
a situation as conductor to a 'bus. He was so busy with his fares when
Robin mounted the 'bus that he failed to observe him until the moment
when the latter returned from futurity. Their eyes met simultaneously,
and opened to such an extent that if size had counted for numbers they
might have done for four boys.

"Hallo, Buttons!" was the Slogger's exclamation.

"Hallo, Slogger!" was that of Robin.

"Well, now, this _is_ a pleasure! who'd a thought it?" said the
conductor, reaching up his hand.

"Is that for your fare or a shake, Slogger?" demanded Robin.

"A shake, of course, old feller," replied the other, as Robin grasped
the proffered hand;--"but I say," he added in a lower key, "there's no
Slogger now in this 'ere world; he's dead an' buried long ago. My name
is Villum Bowls--no connection wotever with Slogger. Oh no! we never
mention 'im;--but, I say, w'en did you go into the genteel line? eh,
Slidder?"

"Robin--Robin is my name _now_, Villum Bowls. I've changed it since we
met last, though I hain't cut old friends like you. Robin an' Slidder
'ave been united, an' a pretty pair they make, don't they?"

"Middlin'. 'Old on till I get that ancient stout party shoved in.
Looks like as if he was a goin' in the opposite direction, but it don't
matter so long as we can get 'im in.--Now, then, sir, mind the step.
All right? I say, Slid--Robin, I mean--"

"Vell, Slog--Villum, I mean; why don't you say wot you mean, eh?"

"'Ow d'you like grey tights an' buttons?" said the Slogger, with a bland
smile.

"So--so," replied Robin, with a careless air; "the grey is sober
enough--quite suitable to my character--an' I confess I'm fond o' the
buttons."

"There's enough of 'em to form a goodish overcoat a'most," said the