Mr. Timmis, startled by his sudden exit, looked at Mr. Wallis for an explanation.

“By ___!” exclaimed Mr. Wallis seriously-- “you’ve hurt that poor fellow’s
feelings.   I would sooner have given a guinea than he should have heard
you.   Dubois is a gentleman; and altho’ he’s completely ‘stumped,’ and
has’nt a place to put his head in, he’s tenacious of that respect which
is due to every man, whether he happens to be at a premium, or a
discount.”

“Go it!” cried Mr. Timmis, colouring deeply at this merited reproof—­“If
this ain’t a reg’lar sermon!   I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, d___
me;  I’m a reg’lar John Bull, and he should know better than to be popped
at my bluntness.   D___ me, I wouldn’t hurt a worm--you know I wouldn’t,
Wallis.”

There was a tone of contrition in this rambling apology that satisfied Mr. Wallis of its truth; and he immediately entered into an explanation on the Frenchman’s situation.  He had known him, he said, for several years as a tutor in the family of one of his clients, by whom he was much respected:  a heavy loss had compelled them suddenly to reduce their establishment; Dubois had entreated to remain with his pupil—­refused to receive any salary—­and had even served his old patron in the capacity of a menial, adhering to him in all his misfortunes, and only parted with him, reluctantly, at the door of the debtor’s prison!

“Did he do that?” said my master; and I saw his eyes moisten at the
relation.   “A French mounseer do that!   Game--d___ me!”--and lifting the
lid of his desk, he drew out a five pound note!   “Here, Wallis, tip him
this flimsey!   Tell him—­you know what to say—­I’m no speechifier—­but
you know what I mean.”   I almost jumped up and hugged my master, I was so
excited.

The next day Monsieur Dubois again made his appearance; and Mr. Wallis had the pleasure of beholding Mr. Timmis and his gallic friend on the best terms imaginable.

As for me, I had good cause to rejoice; for it was agreed that I should take lessons in the “foreign lingo,” by way of giving him “a lift,” as Mr. Timmis expressed it.  I remember him with feelings of gratitude; for I owe much more than the knowledge of the language to his kindness and instruction.

As for Mr. Timmis, he could never sufficiently appreciate his worth, although he uniformly treated him with kindness.

“Talk of refinement,” said he, one day, when discussing Dubois’ merits with Mr. Wallis; “I saw a bit to-day as bangs everything.  A cadger sweeping a crossing fell out with a dustman.  Wasn’t there some spicy jaw betwixt ’em.  Well, nothing would suit, but the dustman must have a go, and pitch into the cadger.

“D___ me, what does the cove do, but he outs with a bit of dirty
pasteboard, and he says, says he, “I sha’nt fight with fistesses, it’s
wulgar!—­but if he’s a mind to anything like a gemman, here’s my card!”
Wasn’t there a roar!   I lugg’d out a bob, and flung it at the vagabond
for his wit.”

CHAPTER XIII.—­My Talent Called into Active Service.