“Now, that’s what I call smart observation, Carrie,” said the Gillingwater burners, beaming upon Miss Waghorn.

“Oh, we all know that Mr. Gammon’s more than seven” replied the young lady with a throaty laugh, and her joke was admirably received.

“Business good, sir?” asked Gammon.

“Not bad for the time of year, sir.  Is it true, do you know, that Milligan of Bishopsgate has burst up?”

“I heard so yesterday; not surprised; business very badly managed.  Great shame, too, for I know he got it very cheap, and there was a fortune in it.  Two years ago I could have bought the whole concern for a couple of thousand.”

“You don’t say so!”

Mr. Gammon was often heard to remark that he could have bought this, that, or the other thing for something paltry, such as a couple of thousands.  It was not idle boasting, such opportunities had indeed come in his way, and, with his generous optimism, he was content to ignore the fact that only the money was wanting.

“What’s wrong with Polly Sparkes?” inquired the young lady presently, again sending a waft of cloves into Gammon’s face.

“That’s what I want to know,” he answered facetiously.

“She’s awful cut up about something.  I thought you was sure to know what it was, Mr. Gammon.  She says a lot of you has been using her shimeful.”

“Oh, she does, does she?”

“You should hear her talk!  Now it’s her landlydy—­now it’s her awnt—­now it’s I don’t know who.  To hear her—­she’s been used shimeful.  She says she’s been drove out of the ’ouse.  I didn’t think it of you, Mr. Gammon.”

At the moment the bus was drawing slowly near to a popular wine-shop.  Mr. Nibby whispered to Miss Waghorn, who dropped her eyes and looked demure; whereupon he addressed Gammon.

“What do you say to a glass of dry sherry, sir?”

“Right you are, sir!”

So the omnibus was stopped to allow Miss Waghorn to alight, and all three turned into the wine-shop.  Dry sherry not being to Miss Waghorn’s taste she chose sweet port, drinking it as one to the manner born, and talking the while in hoarse whispers, with now and then an outburst of shrill laughter.  The dark, narrow space before the counter or bar was divided off with wooden partitions as at a pawnbroker’s; each compartment had a high stool for the luxuriously inclined, and along the wall ran a bare wooden bench.  Not easily could a less inviting place of refreshment have been constructed; but no such thought occurred to its frequenters, who at this hour were numerous.  Squeezed together in a stifling atmosphere of gas and alcohol, with nothing to look at but the row of great barrels whence the wine was drawn, these merry folk quenched their midsummer thirst and gave their wits a jog, and drank good fellowship with merciless ill-usage of the Queen’s English.  Miss Waghorn talked freely of Polly Sparkes, repeating all the angry things that Polly had said, and persistingly wanting to know what the “bother” was all about.