“Don’t know,” said I; “I have just come from Lancaster Street, where I have been seeing an aunt, and thought I would take Great Coram Street in my way to the city, to ask how you do—­but where’s Mrs. Jorrocks?”

Jorrocks.  Oh, cuss Mrs. J——­; I knows nothing about her—­been reading the Riot Act, and giving her red rag a holiday all the morning—­wish to God I’d never see’d her—­took her for better and worser, it’s werry true; but she’s a d——­d deal worser than I took her for.  Hope your hat may long cover your family.  Mrs. J——­’s gone to the Commons to Jenner—­swears she’ll have a diworce, a mensa et thorax, I think she calls it—­wish she may get it—­sick of hearing her talk about it—­Jenner’s the only man wot puts up with her, and that’s because he gets his fees.  Batsay, my dear! you may damp another towel, and then get me something to cool my coppers—­all in a glow, I declare—­complete fever.  You whiles go to the lush-crib, Mr. Yorkshireman; what now do you reckon best after a regular drench?

Yorkshireman. Oh, nothing like a glass of soda-water with a bottom of brandy—­some people prefer a sermon, but that won’t suit you or I. After your soda and brandy take a good chivy in the open air, and you’ll be all right by dinner-time.

Jorrocks. Right I Bliss ye, I shall niver be right again.  I can scarce move out of my chair, I’m so bad—­my head’s just fit to split in two—­I’m in no state to be seen.

Yorkshireman. Oh, pooh!—­get your soda-water and brandy, then have some strong coffee and a red herring, and you’ll be all right, and if you’ll find cash, I’ll find company, and we’ll go and have a lark together.

Jorrocks. Couldn’t really be seen out—–­besides, cash is werry scarce.  By the way, now that I come to think on it, I had a five-pounder in my breeches last night.  Just feel in the pocket of them ’ere nankeens, and see that Mrs. J——­ has not grabbed it to pay Jenner’s fee with.

Yorkshireman (feels).  No—­all right—­here it is—­No. 10,497—­I promise to pay Mr. Thos.  Rippon, or bearer, on demand, five pounds!  Let’s demand it, and go and spend the cash.

Jorrocks. No, no—­put it back—­or into the table-drawer, see—­fives are werry scarce with me—­can’t afford it—­must be just before I’m generous.

Yorkshireman. Well, then, J——­, you must just stay at home and get bullied by Mrs. J——­, who will be back just now, I dare say, perhaps followed by Jenner and half Doctors’ Commons.

Jorrocks.  The deuce!  I forgot all that—­curse Mrs. J——­ and the Commons too.  Well, Mr. Yorkshireman, I don’t care if I do go with you—­but where shall it be to?  Some place where we can be quiet, for I really am werry bad, and not up to nothing like a lark.

Yorkshireman.  Suppose we take a sniff of the briny—­Margate—­Ramsgate—­Broadstairs?

Jorrocks.  No, none of them places—­over-well-known at ’em all—­can’t be quiet—­get to the lush-crib again, perhaps catch the cholera and go to Gravesend by mistake.  Let’s go to the Eel Pye at Twickenham and live upon fish.