"No; money ain't got nothing to do with it," said D. Wragg, gruffly; "and yet it has too, something. You see, sir, I got hold of Sergeant Falkner, and he's put me up to it all--how you found the young gent in the orspital and all; and so I wanted to come on about it. But what did I say to you when you came to me to search my place? Why, don't you make no mistake, I says, and now I says it again. Don't you make no mistake; I ain't come after money; but just to say as I'm sorry as the young gent should have got into such trouble through coming to my place; and as to his getting better, all I've got to say now is, as he shan't never come inside the shop again. I did have some of his money for different things; but there, lor' bless you, I put it to you, Mr Clayton, sir, if I hadn't had it to do me good, wouldn't he have spent it in organ-grinders, or brass bands, or something? 'Pon my soul, sir, I never see a young gent as knowed so little of what money was worth." "And do you mean," said Sir Francis, "that if my son gets well, and comes to your place again, you will not admit him?" "Course I do. Don't you make no mistake, sir. I'm in real earnest, I am; and if at any time you want a dorg, or a score o'--Blow it! hold your tongue, will you," he said, breaking off short in his speech, this portion of which was born of constant repetition. "But don't you make no mistake, sir--he shan't come no more; and as to the place being searched, that wasn't your doing; that was spite, that was, and Mr Jack Screwby--an ugly cuss! But they've got him for 'sault and violence, and he'll get it hot, and no mistake, sir. And now my sarvice to you both, gents, and I'm off; but I thought I'd come to say as I was sorry and glad too, and you understands me, I knows." As he turned to go, Sir Francis crossed the room, and tried to thrust a five-pound note into his hands; but D. Wragg waved him off. "No, sir; I promised 'em at home, if you wanted to do anything of that kind, as I wouldn't take it--and I won't--so there now. But look here! don't you make no mistake; I ain't proud, and if you says to me, `Mr D. Wragg, will you take a glass of wine to drink my son back again to health?'--why, hang me if I don't." Crash went D. Wragg's hat down upon the floor as he spoke, and after his arms had flown about at all manner of angles with his body, he folded them tightly, and stood gazing from one to the other. "You shall drink his health, indeed, Mr Wragg," said Sir Francis, smiling; and the decanters being produced, D. Wragg did drink Lionel's health, and then in another glass that of Sir Francis, then took another to drink Harry Clayton's, and yet one more for the benefit of all absent friends, when he stumped off, evidently wonderfully steadied in his action by what he had imbibed. Volume 3, Chapter XIX. RICHARD PELLET'S VISITORS.