“Vell, Grubbs, my boy, here’s the gals!”

“The gals!” languidly echoed Mr. Richard, tossing off his tumbler, with a most appropriate smack.

CHAPTER VI.

The Reckoning.

“Pull the bell, Spriggs,” said Mr. Richard, “and let’s have the bill.”

Mr. Augustus Spriggs obeyed, and the landlord appeared.

“Vot’s to pay?”

“Send you the bill directly, gentlemen,” replied the landlord, bowing, and trundling out of the room.

The cook presently entered, and laying the bill at Mr. Grubb’s elbow, took off the remnants of the ‘game,’ and left the sportsmen to discuss the little account.

“My eye! if this ain’t a rum un!” exclaimed Grubb, casting his dilating oculars over the slip.

“Vy, vot’s the damage?” enquired Spriggs.

“Ten and fourpence.”

“Ten and fourpence!—­never!” cried his incredulous companion.  “Vot a himposition.”

“Vell!” said Mr. Grubb, with a bitter emphasis, “if this is finding our own wittles, we’ll dine at the hor’nary next time”—­

“Let’s have a squint at it,” said Mr. Spriggs, reaching across the table; but all his squinting made the bill no less, and he laid it down with a sigh.  “It is coming it rayther strong, to be sure,” continued he; “but I dare say it’s all our happearance has as done it.  He takes us for people o’ consequence, and”—­

“Vot consequence is that to us?” said Grubbs, doggedly.

“Vell, never mind, Dick, it’s on’y vonce a-year, as the grotto-boys says—­”

“It need’nt to be; or I’ll be shot if he mightn’t vistle for the brads.  Howsomever, there’s a hole in another suv’rin.”

“Ve shall get through it the sooner,” replied the consoling Spriggs.  “I see, Grubb, there aint a bit of the Frenchman about you”—­

“Vy, pray?”

“Cos, you know, they’re fond o’ changing their suv’rins, and—­you aint!”

The pleasant humour of Spriggs soon infected Grubb, and he resolved to be jolly, and keep up the fun, in spite of the exorbitant charge for the vegetable addenda to their supply of game.

“Come, don’t look at the bill no more,” advised Spriggs, but treat it as old Villiams does his servants ven they displeases him.”

“How’s that?”

“Vy, discharge it, to be sure,” replied he.

This sage advice being promptly followed, the sportsmen, shouldering their guns, departed in quest of amusement.  They had not, however, proceeded far on their way, before a heavy shower compelled them to take shelter under a hedge.

“Werry pleasant!” remarked Spriggs.

“Keep your powder dry,” said Grubb.

“Leave me alone,” replied Spriggs; “and I think as we’d better pop our guns under our coat-tails too, for these ere cocks aint vater-cocks, you know!  Vell, I never seed sich a rain.  I’m bless’d if it vont drive all the dickey-birds to their nestes.”