The Sp.-F.M. Law, yes, it’s simple enough.  I done it first time.

Old B.F. Give an old man a chance to get a bit.  If any party ’ere ’as found me out, let him ’old ’is tongue—­it’s all I ask. (To JOE.) You’ve seen this afore, I know!

Joe. Noa, I ain’t—­but I could tell ye th’ middle.

Old B.F. Will ye bet on it?  Come—­not too ’igh, but just to show you’ve confidence in your opinion!

Joe (cautiously).  I woant bet wi’ ye, but I’ll hev a try, just for nawthen, if ye like!

Old B.F. Well, I want to see if you really do know it—­so, jest for once, I ain’t no objection. (JOE pricks the garter.) Yes, you’ve found the middle, sure enough!  It’s a good job there was no money on—­for me, leastwise!

The Sp.-F.M. I’ve a good mind to ’ave another try.

The Sm.  Y.M. I wouldn’t.  You’ll lose.  I could see you on’y guessed the first time. (The Sp.  F.M., however, extracts a shilling, stakes it—­and loses.) There, I could ha’ told you you was wrong—­(To JOE)—­couldn’t you?

Joe. Yes, he art to ha’ pricked moor to waun side of ’un. (The Sp.-F.M. stakes another florin.) Now he’s done it, if ye like!

O.B.F. There, ye see, I’m as often wrong as not myself. (To the Sp.-F.M.) There’s your four bob, Sir.  Now, jest once more!

Joe (to MELIA).  I’ll git the price o’ that theer cup an’ sarcer out of ‘un, any’ow. (To O.B.F.) I’ll ha’ a tanner wi’ ye!

O.B.F. ’Alf a soverin, if you like—­it’s all the same to me!

Joe (after pricking).  I thart I ’ad ’un that time, too, I did!

The Sm.  Y.M. You shouldn’t ha’ changed your mind—­you were right enough afore!

Joe.  Yes, I should ha’ stuck to it. (To O.B.F.) I’ll bet ye two bob on the next go—­come!

O.B.F. Well, I don’t like to say no, though I can see, plain enough, you know too much. (JOE pricks; O.B.F. pulls away the strip, and leaves the skewer outside.) I could ha’ sworn you done me that time—­but there ye are, ye see, there’s never no tellin’ at this game—­and that’s the charm on it!

    [JOE walks on with MELIA in a more subdued frame of mind.

The Sm.  Y.M. (in the ear of the Spotty-faced One).  I say, I got a job o’ my own to attend to—­jest pass the word to the Old Man, when he’s done with this pitch, to turn up beyind the swing-boats there, and come along yourself, if yer can.  It’s the old lay I’m on—­the prize-packets fake.

The Sp.-F.M. Right—­we’ll give yer a look in presently—­it’ll be a little change for the Ole Man—­trades’s somethin’ cruel ’ere!

* * * * *

HIS MAD-JESTY AT THE LYCEUM.