e should much like to see little Sophy and her
grandfather at your house to-morrow,--can we?"

"Certain sure you can, after the play's over; to-night, if you like."

"No, to-morrow: you see my friend is impatient to get back now; we will
call to-morrow."

"'T is the last day of their stay," said the Cobbler. "But you can't be
sure to see them safely at my house afore ten o'clock at night; and not
a word to Rugge! mum!"

"Not a word to Rugge," returned Lionel; "good-night to you."

The young men left the Cobbler still seated on the milestone, gazing on
the stars and ruminating. They walked briskly down the road.

"It is I who have had the talk now," said Lionel, in his softest tone.
He was bent on coaxing three pounds out of his richer friend, and that
might require some management. For amongst the wild youngsters in Mr.
Vance's profession, there ran many a joke at the skill with which he
parried irregular assaults on his purse; and that gentleman, with his
nose more than usually in the air, having once observed to such scoffers
"that they were quite welcome to any joke at his expense," a wag
had exclaimed, "At your expense! Don't fear; if a joke were worth a
farthing, you would never give that permission."

So when Lionel made that innocent remark, the softness of his tone
warned the artist of some snake in the grass, and he prudently remained
silent. Lionel, in a voice still sweeter, repeated,--"It is I who have
all the talk now!"

"Naturally," then returned Vance, "naturally you have, for it is you,
I suspect, who alone have the intention to pay for it, and three pounds
appear to be the price. Dearish, eh?"

"Ah, Vance, if I had three pounds!"

"Tush; and say no more till we have supped. I have the hunger of a
wolf."

Just in sight of the next milestone the young travellers turned a few
yards down a green lane, and reached a small inn on the banks of the
Thames. Here they had sojourned for the last few days, sketching,
boating, roaming about the country from sunrise, and returning to supper
and bed at nightfall. It was the pleasantest little inn,--an arbour,
covered with honeysuckle, between the porch and the river,--a couple of
pleasure-boats moored to the bank; and now all the waves rippling under
the moonlight.

"Supper and lights in the arbour," cried Vance to the waiting-maid,
"hey, presto, quick! while we turn in to wash our hands. And hark! a
quart jug of that capital whiskey-toddy."

CHA