stand on Dignity.

"What's wrong, Judlip?" I asked, more sweetly than ever. "Drawn a
blank to-night?"

"Yuss. Drawn a blank blank blank. 'Avent 'ad so much as a kick at a
lorst dorg. Christmas Eve ain't wot it was." I felt for my note-book.
"Lawd! I remembers the time when the drunks and disorderlies down this
street was as thick as flies on a fly-paper. One just picked 'em orf
with one's finger and thumb. A bloomin' battew, that's wot it wos."

"The night's yet young, Judlip," I insinuated, with a jerk of my thumb
at the flaring windows of the "Rat and Blood Hound." At that moment
the saloon-door swung open, emitting a man and woman who walked with
linked arms and exceeding great care.

Judlip eyed them longingly as they tacked up the street. Then he
sighed. Now, when Judlip sighs the sound is like unto that which
issues from the vent of a Crosby boiler when the cog-gauges are at
260° F.

"Come, Judlip!" I said. "Possess your soul in patience. You'll soon
find someone to make an example of. Meanwhile"--I threw back my head
and smacked my lips--"the usual, Judlip?"

In another minute I emerged through the swing-door, bearing a furtive
glass of that same "usual," and nipped down the mews where my friend
was wont to await these little tokens of esteem.

"To the Majesty of the Law, Judlip!"