of conversation.

"No," responded Bill, with thoughtful exactitude. "He said he couldn't
look inter that claim o' Johnson's without first consultin' the Bank o'
England."

The Mr. Johnson here alluded to being present as the faded reveller
the barkeeper had lately put out, and as the alleged claim notoriously
possessed no attractions whatever to capitalists, expectation naturally
looked to him for some response to this evident challenge. He did so
by simply stating that he would "take sugar" in his, and by walking
unsteadily toward the bar, as if accepting a festive invitation. To the
credit of Bill be it recorded that he did not attempt to correct the
mistake, but gravely touched glasses with him, and after saying "Here's
another nail in your coffin,"--a cheerful sentiment, to which "And the
hair all off your head," was playfully added by the others,--he threw
off his liquor with a single dexterous movement of head and elbow, and
stood refreshed.

"Hello, old major!" said Bill, suddenly setting down his glass. "Are YOU
there?"

It was a boy, who, becoming bashfully conscious that this epithet was
addressed to him, retreated sideways to the doorway, where he stood
beating his hat against the door-post with an assumption of indifference
that his downcast but mirthful dark eyes and reddening cheek scarcely
bore out. Perhaps it was owing to his size, perhaps it was to a certain
cherubic outline of face and figure, perhaps to a peculiar trustfulness
of expression, that he did not look half his age, which was really
fourteen.