The Club of Queer Trades
swift. When we reached them I suddenly flung myself against the railings and roared out: 'Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! Rule Britannia! Get your 'air cut. Houp-la! Boo!' It was a condition of no little novelty for a man of my position.
"The constable instantly flashed his lantern on me, or the draggled, drunken old woman that was my travesty. 'Now then, mum,' he began, gruffly.
"'Come along quiet or I'll eat your heart,' cried Sam in my ear, hoarsely. 'Stop or I'll flay you.' It was frightful to hear the words and see the neatly shawled old spinster who whispered them.
"I yelled and yelled—I was in for it now. I screamed comic refrains that vulgar young men had sung, to my regret, at our village concerts; I rolled to and fro like a ninepin about to fall.
"'If you can't get your friend on quiet, ladies,' said the policeman, 'I shall have to take 'er up. Drunk and disorderly she is right enough.'
"I redoubled my efforts. I had not been
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