AN INTERVAL OF TEN YEARS. 73

in our rags — it was a wann day in June — walked out into
Grosvenor Square and called at the house of a certain would-be
swell, who prided himself on his money, and was a great snob,
so everybody said. The door was opened by a gorgeous foot-
man. 'Master in?' we asked. 'No, he is not,' sad the
flunkey, with a disdainful stare at our rjgs, and thoughts, no
doubt, of the policeman round the comet. ' Not in ! Tell him
his two brothers from the Workhouse called to see him.' That



flunkey, I expect, would look down on his raaster ever
afterwards.
