At Holborn Viaduct there was a perpetual rush of people for the trains to the ‘Paliss.’  As soon as a train was full, off it went, and another long string of empty carriages drew up in its place.  No distinction between ‘classes’ to-day; get in where you like, where you can.  Positively, Pennyloaf found herself seated in a first-class carriage; she would have been awe-struck, but that Bob flung himself back on the cushions with such an easy air, and nodded laughingly at her.  Among their companions was a youth with a concertina; as soon as the train moved he burst into melody.  It was the natural invitation to song, and all joined in the latest ditties learnt at the music-hall.  Away they sped, over the roofs of South London, about them the universal glare of sunlight, the carriage dense with tobacco-smoke.  Ho for the bottle of muddy ale, passed round in genial fellowship from mouth to mouth!  Pennyloaf would not drink of it; she had a dread of all such bottles.  In her heart she rejoiced that Bob knew no craving for strong liquor.  Towards the end of the journey the young man with the concertina passed round his hat.

Clem Peckover had come by the same train; she was one of a large party which had followed close behind Bob and Pennyloaf to the railway station.  Now they followed along the long corridors into the ‘Paliss,’ with many a loud expression of mockery, with hee-hawing laughter, with coarse jokes.  Depend upon it, Clem was gorgeously arrayed; amid her satellites she swept on ’like a stately ship of Tarsus, bound for the isles of Javan or Gadire;’ her face was aflame, her eyes flashed in enjoyment of the uproar.  Jack Bartley wore a high hat—­Bob never had owned one in his life—­and about his neck was a tie of crimson; yellow was his waistcoat, even such a waistcoat as you may see in Pall Mall, and his walking-stick had a nigger’s head for handle.  He was the oracle of the maidens around him; every moment the appeal was to ‘Jeck!  Jeck!’ Suke Jollop, who would in reality have preferred to accompany Bob and his allies, whispered it about that Jack had two-pound-ten in his pocket, and was going to spend every penny of it before he left the ’Paliss’—­ yes, ‘every bloomin’ penny!’

Thus early in the day, the grounds were of course preferred to the interior of the glass house.  Bob and Pennyloaf bent their steps to the fair.  Here already was gathered much goodly company; above their heads hung a thick white wavering cloud of dust.  Swing-boats and merry-go-rounds are from of old the chief features of these rural festivities; they soared and dipped and circled to the joyous music of organs which played the same tune automatically for any number of hours, whilst raucous voices invited all and sundry to take their turn.  Should this delight pall, behold on every hand such sports as are dearest to the Briton, those which call for strength of sinew and exactitude of aim.  The philosophic mind would have noted with interest how ingeniously these games