young
Cash, unless you want to do it--instead of me--it's this way, you see,
you chaps: I sort of think we ought to drink the health of Rollitt's
governor. He's a good old sort, and we're backing up old Rollitt. It
wasn't a very grand spread. There'd have been some sardines if you'd
come last week; but that greedy pig D'Arcy--"

"Go on; it was _you_ finished them, three in two gulps," protested the
outraged D'Arcy.

"Look here, young D'Arcy," said Wally, seriously, "am I making this
speech, or are you. If you don't shut up, I'll jolly well make you.--We
hope you've liked it, and don't mind our drinking your health, you know.
It'll be jolly when old Rollitt turns up. We'd ask you again to-
morrow, you know, only the grub's run short. Therefore, I have much
pleasure in proposing your health."

The toast was drunk with acclamation, the party joining in "For he's a
jolly good fellow," much to the alarm of the occupants of the
neighbouring studies, who flocked out in the passage to see what the
noise was about.

Wally assured them there was no grub left, so they needn't hang about;
but a good many of them remained all the same, to hear Mr Rollitt's
speech.

"Thank'ee kindly, young masters," began he, with his usual formula; "I
ain't no schollard like my Alf is. He could talk to you straight. I'm
sorry he ain't here, gents. He's bound to be somewheres, and I'm sure
it's no offence meant, his going away. I likes your style, and I hopes
that young fly-by-night who says my Alf's a thief will tell him so to
his face. My Alf'll settle him proper. Them as pays for my Alf's
schooling--which it's two kind ladies, masters, as my missus was kinder
foster-sister to--means to make a gent of my Alf. But, bless you, he'd
sooner be along of me in the building trade. Not that my Alf ain't a
schollard, and can't behave himself. He do behave beautiful to his
mother, does Alf, and ain't nothink of a fine gent at home. So there, I
tell you straight, and no offence meant, young masters. I like your
style, I do. Don't you take on about my Alf bein' a-missing. He's
bound to be somewheres. I know'd him do it afore, when things went
contrairy. But he wasn't fur off, and come back. On'y don't let 'im
cop hold of that there jumper as says he's a thief, or there'll be a row
in the 'ouse. Why, my Alf's that straight he wouldn't rob a dog of his
bone, not if he was starving. That's flat. So here's to you, young
gents; and i