called all Paul's blood into his cheek; for though he had been punished
as a clyfaker (or pickpocket), nobody knew better than Long Ned whether
or not he was innocent; and a reproach from him came therefore with
double injustice and severity. In his wrath he seized Mr. Pepper by the
ear, and telling him he was a shabby scoundrel, challenged him to fight.

So pleasing an invitation not being announced sotto voce, but in a tone
suited to the importance of the proposition, every one around heard it;
and before Long Ned could answer, the full voice of Gentleman George
thundered forth,--

"Keep the peace there, you youngster! What! are you just admitted into
our merry-makings, and must you be wrangling already? Harkye, gemmen, I
have been plagued enough with your quarrels before now; and the first
cove as breaks the present quiet of the Jolly Angler shall be turned out
neck and crop,--sha' n't he, Attie?"

"Right about, march!" said the hero.

"Ay, that's the word, Attie," said Gentleman George. "And now, Mr.
Pepper, if there be any ill blood 'twixt you and the lad there, wash it
away in a bumper of bingo, and let's hear no more whatsomever about it."

"I'm willing," cried Long Ned, with the deferential air of a courtier,
and holding out his hand to Paul. Our hero, being somewhat abashed by
the novelty of his situation and the rebuke of Gentleman George,
accepted, though with some reluctance, the proffered courtesy.

Order being thus restored, the conversation of the convivialists began to
assume a most fascinating bias. They talked with infinite gout of the