ed flaps of the
crimson waistcoat and laughed with a swift and intense approval.

"Ain't this been done thorough?" he demanded.

"As far as it goes, Joseph," replied the jocular Snac, "it's noble, to
be sure." Joseph became critical again, but again at the sight of the
gold-laced waistcoat his doubts vanished. "But surely, surely, Joseph,
he should ha' gi'en you a pair o' them high collars as he wears, and a
cravat, to go along with a get out like that."

"He might ha' done that, to be sure," said Joseph, tentatively.

"Might ha' done it!" cried Snac, with a voice of honest scorn. "Ah!
and would ha' done it if he'd been half a man, let alone a peer of the
realm. For that's what he is, Joseph--a peer of the realm."

"So he is," said the poor Joseph, who was rapidly sliding into the trap
which was set for him. "You would have expected a peer of the realm to
do it thorough, wouldn't you?"

"Look here, Joseph," continued Snac, opening his trap wide, "you go
and tell him. 'My lord,' says you--a-speakin' like a man, Joseph, and
a-lookin' his lordship i' the face as a man in a suit of clothes like
them has got a right to do--'my lord,' you says, 'you're as mean as
you're high,' says you. 'What for?' says he. 'Why,' says you, 'for
settin' a man out i' this half-an'-half mode for the folks to laugh at.
Give me a collar and a cravat this minute, you says,' or else be ashamed
o' thyself. Be ayther a man or a mouse.' That's the way to talk to 'em,
Joseph."

"Think so?" asked Joseph, with an air half martial and half doubtful.

"To be sure," cried Snac; and with one exception everybody in the little
crowd echoed "To be sure!"

"I'll goo an' do it," said Joseph, thus fortified, "this instant
minute."

"Wait a bit Joseph," said Reuben Gold, "I'm going that way. We'll go a
little of the road together."

"Now, Mr. Gold," cried Snac, in a whisper, recognizing Reuben's voice
before he turned, "don't you go an' spoil sport."

"Snac, my lad," responded Reuben, smiling, "it's poor sport."

"He'd go an' tell him," said Snac, with a delighted grin. "You can mek
him say annythin'."

"That's why it's such poor sport," said Reuben. "It's too easy. It's
sport to stand up for a bout with the sticks when the other man's a bit
better than you are, but it's no fun to beat a baby."

"I like it better," Snac replied, with candor, "when th' odds is on
t'other side. I like to be a bit better than t'other chap."

"You like to win? That'