cheque
and keeping it for a few months till he's into funds,' observed Mr.
Thornton, who now sought Mr. Sponge out at the billiard-room.

'Why,' observed Mr. Sponge, thoughtfully, 'you know horses are always ready
money.'

'True,' replied Thornton; 'at least that's the theory of the thing; only
my friend is rather peculiarly situated at present.'

'I suppose Mr. Waffles is your man?' observed Mr. Sponge, rightly judging
that there couldn't be two such flats in the place.

'Just so,' said Mr. Thornton.

[Illustration: MR. WAFFLES AT MISS LOLLYPOP'S]

'I'd rather take his "stiff" than his cheque,' observed Mr. Sponge, after a
pause. 'I could get a bit of stiff _done_, but a cheque, you
see--especially a post-dated one--is always objected to.'

'Well, I dare say that will make no difference,' observed Mr. Thornton,
'"stiff," if you prefer it--say three months; or perhaps you'll give us
four?'

'Three's long enough, in all conscience,' replied Mr. Sponge, with a shake
of the head, adding, 'Bullfrog made me pay down on the nail.'

'Well, so be it, then,' assented Mr. Thornton; 'you draw at three months,
and Mr. Waffles will accept, payable at Coutts's.'

After so much liberality, Mr. Caingey expected that Mr. Sponge would have
hinted at something handsome for him; but all Sponge said was, 'So be it,'
too, as he walked away to buy a bill-stamp.

Mr. Waffles was more considerate, and promised him the first mount on his
new purchase, though Caingey would rather have had a ten, or even a
five-pound note.

Towards the hour of ten on that eventful day, numerous gaitered, trousered,
and jacketed grooms began to ride up and down the High Street, most of them
with their stirrups crossed negligently on the pommels of the saddles, to
indicate that their masters were going to ride the horses, and not them.
The street grew lively, not so much with people going to hunt, as with
people coming to see those who were. Tattered Hibernians, with rags on
their backs and jokes on their lips; young English _chevaliers
d'industrie_, with their hands ready to dive into anybody's pockets but
their own; stablemen out of place, servants loitering on their errands,
striplings helping them, ladies'-maids with novels or three-corner'd notes,
and a good crop of beggars.

'What, Spareneck, do you ride the grey to-day? I thought you'd done
Gooseman out of a mount,' observed Ensign Downley, as a line of
scarlet-coated youths hung over the bal