'Oh, a house I know of,' returned Herrick.
'But it was a public-house!' cried the clerk—only these were not his words. 'And w'y didn't you take the carpet there instead of trundling in a growler?'
'I didn't want to startle a quiet street,' said the narrator. 'Bad form. And besides, it was a hansom.'
'Well, and what did you do next?' inquired the captain.
'Oh, I went in,' said Herrick.
'The old folks?' asked the captain.
'That's about it,' said the other, chewing a grass.
'Well, I think you are about the poorest 'and at a yarn!' cried the clerk. 'Crikey, it's like Ministering Children! I can tell you there would be more beer and skittles about my little jaunt. I would go and have a B.-and-S. for luck. Then I would get a big ulster with astracan fur, and take my cane and do the la-de-la down Piccadilly. Then I would go to a slap-up restaurant, and have green peas, and a bottle of fizz, and a chump chop—Oh! and I forgot, I'd 'ave some devilled whitebait first—and green gooseberry tart, and 'ot coffee, and some of that form of vice in big bottles with a seal—Benedictine—
