o many for 'im."

"Let's all go to Bob Pretty's and take it," ses Peter Gubbins, wot 'ad
been in the Militia.

Dicky Weed shook his 'ead. "He'd 'ave the lor on us for robbery," he
ses; "there's nothing he'd like better."

They talked it over till closing-time, but nobody seemed to know wot to
do, and they stood outside in the bitter cold for over arf an hour still
trying to make up their minds 'ow to get that hamper back. Fust one went
off 'ome and then another, and at last, when there was on'y three or four
of 'em left, Henery Walker, wot prided himself on 'is artfulness, 'ad an
idea.

"One of us must get Bob Pretty up 'ere to-morrow night and stand 'im a
pint, or p'r'aps two pints," he ses. "While he's here two other chaps
must 'ave a row close by his 'ouse and pretend to fight. Mrs. Pretty and
the young 'uns are sure to run out to look at it, and while they are out
another chap can go in quiet-like and get the hamper."

It seemed a wunnerful good idea, and Bill Chambers said so; and 'e
flattered Henery Walker up until Henery didn't know where to look, as the
saying is.

"And wot's to be done with the hamper when we've got it?" ses Sam Jones.

"Have it drawed for agin," ses Henery. "It'll 'ave to be done on the
quiet, o' course."

Sam Jones stood thinking for a bit. "Burn the hamper and draw lots for
everything separate," 'e ses, very slow. "If Bob Pretty ses it's 'is
turkey and goose and spirits, tell 'im to prove it. We sha'n't know
nothing about it."

Henery Walker said it was a good plan; and arter talking it over they
walked 'ome all very pleased with theirselves. They talked it over next
day with the other chaps; and Henery Walker said arterwards that p'r'aps
it was talked over a bit too much.

It took 'em some time to make up their minds about it, but at last it was
settled that Peter Gubbins was to stand Bob Pretty the beer; Ted Brown,
who was well known for his 'ot temper, and Joe Smith was to 'ave the
quarrel; and Henery Walker was to slip in and steal the hamper, and 'ide
the things up at his place.

Bob Pretty fell into the trap at once. He was standing at 'is gate in
the dark, next day, smoking a pipe, when Peter Gubbins passed, and Peter,
arter stopping and asking 'im for a light, spoke about 'is luck in
getting the hamper, and told 'im he didn't bear no malice for it.

"You 'ad the pluck to draw fust," he ses, "and you won."

Bob Pretty said he was a Briton, and arter a little