'What is it? Can it talk? 'Pears like it can hear and catch on,' was
Chalks's next remark. 'Shall we work the growler on it?'

The process termed by Chalks 'working the growler' was of ancient
institution in the Café des Souris; and I believe it is not unknown in
other seats of learning--a custom handed down from generation to
generation of students, which, like politeness, costing little, yields
generous returns. Should a casual wayfarer, happening amongst us, so
far transgress the usages of good society as to volunteer a
contribution to our talk, without the preliminary of an introduction,
it was the rule instantly to require him to offer the company
refreshments; and, I am sorry to have to add, not infrequently, being
thirsty, and possessing a lively appreciation of the value of our own
money, we would, by a marked affability of bearing, by smiles, nods,
glances of sympathetic understanding, or what not, designedly
encourage such an one to address us, and so render himself liable to
our impost.

'If we don't,' continued Chalks, 'it will be to fly in the face of
Providence. The man is simply bursting to fire his mouth off. He's had
something to say swelling in him for the last half-hour. It will be an
act of Christian mercy to let him say it. And for myself, I confess
I'm rather dry.'

Chalks doubtless argued from the eager eye with which the man regarded
us; from the uneasy way in which he held his seat, shifting in it, and
edging in our direction; and from the tentative manner in which he
occasionally coughed.