Joe (slapping his thigh).  Well, you are a gell and no mistake!  Come along back and git whatever ’tis you’ve a mind to. (Returning.) ‘Ere, Master, will ye gi’ this young woman summat else for this ’ere? (He extracts the cup in fragments.) ‘Ullo, look a’ that now! (To MELIA.) Theer, it’s all right—­doan’t take on ’bout it.—­I’ll ’ave another go to make it oop. (He pitches ball after ball without success.) I wawn’t be bett.  I lay I’ll git ’un in afoor I’ve done! (He is at last successful.) Theer—­now, ye can please yourself, and doan’t choose nawthen’ foolish this time! (He strolls on with lordly indifference, and is presently rejoined by MELIA.) Well, what did ye take arter all?

Melia. I got so flustered like, for fear o’ losin’ you, I just up and took the first that came ’andy.

Joe. Why, if ye ain’t bin and took another cup an’ sarcer! hor—­hor! that’s a good ’un, that is!  Take keer on it, it’s cost money enough any ’ow—­’t wouldn’t be no bargain if it wur a ’ole tea-set!  What’s goin’ on ’ere?

[A venerable old Sportsman, whom the reader may possibly recollect having met before, has collected a small crowd in a convenient corner; his stock-in-trade consists of an innocent-looking basket, with a linen-cover, upon which are a sharpened skewer and a narrow strip of cloth.

The Sportsman. I’ll undertake to show you more fun in five minutes, than you’ll get over there in two:  (with a vague suspicion that this is rather a lame conclusion)—­in ten, I should say!  This ’ere’s a simple enough little game, when you know the trick of it, and I’m on’y a learnin’ it myself.  I ain’t doin’ this for money.  I got money enough to sink a ship—­it’s on’y for my own amusement.  Now you watch me a doin’ up this garter—­keep yer eye on it. (He coils up the strip.) It goes up ’ere, ye see, and down there, and in ’ere agin, and then round.  Now, I’m ready to bet anything from a sovereign to a shilling, nobody ’ere can prick the middle.  I’ll tell ye if ye win.  I’m ole BILLY FAIRPLAY, and I don’t cheat! (A Spotty-faced Man, after intently following the process, says he believes he could find the middle.) Well, don’t tell—­that’s all.  I’m ’ere all alone, agin the lot o’ ye, and I want to win if I can—­one dog to a bone! (The S.-F.M. produces a florin from a mouldy purse, and stakes it, and makes a dab at the coil with the skewer.) No, ye’re wrong—­that’s outside! (O.B.F. pulls the strip out.) By Gum, ye’ve done it, after all!  ’Ere’s four bob for you, and I’m every bit as pleased as if I’d won myself!  ’Oo’ll try next?

A Smart Young Man (with a brilliant pin in a dirty necktie, to JOE).  I don’t see how it’s done—­do you?

Joe. Ye will if you don’t take yer eyes off it—­theer, I could tell ye the middle now, I could.