He acknowledges the hail with:  ‘Halloa, Dick!’ Their acquaintance seemingly having been established on a familiar footing.

‘But, I say,’ he remonstrates, ’don’t yer go a-making my name public.  I never means to plead to no name, mind yer.  When they says to me in the Lock-up, a-going to put me down in the book, “What’s your name?” I says to them, “Find out.”  Likewise when they says, “What’s your religion?” I says, “Find out."’

Which, it may be observed in passing, it would be immensely difficult for the State, however statistical, to do.

‘Asides which,’ adds the boy, ‘there ain’t no family of Winkses.’

‘I think there must be.’

’Yer lie, there ain’t.  The travellers give me the name on account of my getting no settled sleep and being knocked up all night; whereby I gets one eye roused open afore I’ve shut the other.  That’s what Winks means.  Deputy’s the nighest name to indict me by:  but yer wouldn’t catch me pleading to that, neither.’

‘Deputy be it always, then.  We two are good friends; eh, Deputy?’

‘Jolly good.’

’I forgave you the debt you owed me when we first became acquainted, and many of my sixpences have come your way since; eh, Deputy?’

‘Ah!  And what’s more, yer ain’t no friend o’ Jarsper’s.  What did he go a-histing me off my legs for?’

’What indeed!  But never mind him now.  A shilling of mine is going your way to-night, Deputy.  You have just taken in a lodger I have been speaking to; an infirm woman with a cough.’

‘Puffer,’ assents Deputy, with a shrewd leer of recognition, and smoking an imaginary pipe, with his head very much on one side and his eyes very much out of their places:  ‘Hopeum Puffer.’

‘What is her name?’

‘’Er Royal Highness the Princess Puffer.’

‘She has some other name than that; where does she live?’

‘Up in London.  Among the Jacks.’

‘The sailors?’

‘I said so; Jacks; and Chayner men:  and hother Knifers.’

‘I should like to know, through you, exactly where she lives.’

’All right.  Give us ‘old.’

A shilling passes; and, in that spirit of confidence which should pervade all business transactions between principals of honour, this piece of business is considered done.

‘But here’s a lark!’ cries Deputy.  ’Where did yer think ’Er Royal Highness is a-goin’ to to-morrow morning?  Blest if she ain’t a-goin’ to the Kin-free-Der-El!’ He greatly prolongs the word in his ecstasy, and smites his leg, and doubles himself up in a fit of shrill laughter.

‘How do you know that, Deputy?’

‘Cos she told me so just now.  She said she must be hup and hout o’ purpose.  She ses, “Deputy, I must ’ave a early wash, and make myself as swell as I can, for I’m a-goin’ to take a turn at the Kin-free-Der-El!"’ He separates the syllables with his former zest, and, not finding his sense of the ludicrous sufficiently relieved by stamping about on the pavement, breaks into a slow and stately dance, perhaps supposed to be performed by the Dean.