Fowk ‘at niver loise seet o’ ‘number one,’ are a hard workin set as a rule, but even they have to amuse thersen a bit sometimes, an’ they find it a nice change to luk after ‘number two.’  To a chap o’ this sooart, iverybody’s ‘number two,’ ‘at’s a bit better awther i’ luks, position, or pocket.  Nah if yo want ony fun o’ this sooart aw’ll tell yo ha to get it.  Furst ov all, find aght sombdy ’at yo fancy yore mates think moor on nor they think o’ yo—­watch him ivery time yo get a chonce, an’ see if yo connot pick aght a hoil in his coit.  Dooant be disheartened if yo have to luk a long time before yo can find a fault—­be sure ther is one somewhear, an’ if yo can’t see it at a distance, hutch cloiser up, mak a gurt fuss on him, niver say owt contrary to what he says; if he says summat funny, laff fit to split yor sides, an’ if he says owt serious, luk solemn an’ shak yor heead.  Watch him carefully, an’ it’s a thaasand to one but some day yo’ll catch him trippin.  If, when yo’ve fun a hoil, it’s soa little as to be hardly worth noaticing, dooant despair, wol yor clappin him on his back an’ smilin in his face, yo can happen get yor finger in, an then rive it a bit bigger.  Do it gently at furst, just a little bit at a time, and then when yo’ve getten a chonce, rip it as far as yo can.  But be sure yo have nowt ony moor to do with him after that.  If yo see him comin, cross on t’other side o’ th’ rooad, niver let on ’at yo’ve seen him, but as sooin as he’s getten past, shak yor heead sorrowfully an’ sigh; if yo happen to have a clean hankerchy i’ yor pocket, yo may tak it aght and mak believe to wipe off a tear—­niver heed if ther isn’t one, fowk’ll think better o’ yo, an’ all the war o’ him.  If onybody should come an’ ask yo if yo’ve heeard that sad tale abaat him, say.  ’God forbid at yo should hear owt war nor what yo’ve heeard before.’  Dooant seem inclined to listen, but when they’ve done, say, ‘Well, well it’s a thaasand pities, but if that wor th’ warst it wodn’t matter mich.’  He’s sure to go away wi’ th’ noation ’at yo know summot abaat th’ same chap ’at’s ten times war nor owt he’s heeard, but yo’ve too mich gooid natur to tell it.  Nah this is all varry gooid fun for’ number one;’ an when yo see poor’ number two’ loise his shop, or shunned, or luked shyly at wi’ them at wor once his admirers, an’ yo know ‘at it’s allowing to yo, then yo can goa hooam an’ shut yorsen up all bi yorsen, an’ laff, an rejoice to yor heart’s content.  But dooant be surprised if, when yo chuckle, yo should hear another chuckle cloise to yor elbow, for haiver yo lock an’ bolt th’ door, yo connot keep th’ devil aght.  He enjoys a bit o’ fun o’ this sooart as weel as yo, an’ he’s nobbut come to show yo ha pleased he is.  If yo dooant like his compny sarve him th’ same way —­remember yo’re ‘number one,’ an he’s nobbut ‘number two’ to yo.  Pool as long a face, an’ luk as sanctimonious as yo can, an’ wheniver yo’ve a chonce, tell fowk to shun him an’ all his works, tell