h of them!--prime lads!--hard meat an' good bone. There's no
ill-feelin'."

"If he downs me, Gawd bless him!" said the Master,

"An' if we down him, Gawd help him!" interrupted the woman.

"Haud thy tongue, wench!" said the Master, impatiently. "Who art thou
to put in thy word? Happen I might draw my hand across thy face."

The woman did not take the threat amiss. "Wilt have enough for thy hand
to do, Jock," said she. "Get quit o' this gradely man afore thou turn
on me."

The lovers' quarrel was interrupted by the entrance of a newcomer, a
gentleman with a fur-collared overcoat and a very shiny top-hat--
a top-hat of a degree of glossiness which is seldom seen five miles from
Hyde Park. This hat he wore at the extreme back of his head, so that
the lower surface of the brim made a kind of frame for his high, bald
forehead, his, keen eyes, his rugged and yet kindly face. He bustled in
with the quiet air of possession with which the ring master enters the
circus.

"It's Mr. Stapleton, the referee from London," said Wilson.

"How do you do, Mr. Stapleton? I was introduced to you at the big fight
at the Corinthian Club in Piccadilly."

"Ah! I dare say," said the other, shaking hands. "Fact is, I'm
introduced to so many that I can't undertake to carry their names.
Wilson, is it? Well, Mr. Wilson, glad to see you. Couldn't get a fly
at the station, and that's why I'm late."

"I'm sure, sir," said Armitage, "we should be proud that anyone so well
known in the boxing world should come down to our little exhibition."

"Not at all. Not at all. Anything in the interests of boxin'. All
ready? Men weighed?"

"Weighing now, sir."

"Ah! Just as well that I should see it done. Seen you before, Craggs.
Saw you fight your second battle against Willox. You had beaten him
once, but he came back on you. What does the indicator say--163lbs.--
two off for the kit--161lbs. Now, my lad, you jump. My goodness, what
colours are you wearing?"

"The Anonymi Cricket Club."

"What right have you to wear them? I belong to the club myself."

"So do I."

"You an amateur?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you are fighting for a money prize?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you know what you are doing? You realise that you're a
professional pug from this onwards, and that if ever you fight again--"

"I'll never fight again."

"Happen you won't," said the woman, and the Master turned a terrible eye
upon her.

"Well, I suppose you k