"There's nothing against it," he affirmed. "Nothing, in a manner of speaking; but there, what some call good, others don't, and I can't say as I've troubled much which way it was, so to speak, as long as they was good pals and jolly companions everyone." "What's pals?" "Ah, there you've put your finger on it--as it were--what's a pal? Well, I should say he was a hearty fellow--in a manner of speaking--a fellow as would come down handsome on Treasury night when you hadn't paid your landlady the week before. A pal wouldn't ever crab your business, wouldn't stare too hard if you happened to use his grease. A pal wouldn't let you sleep over the train-call on a Sunday morning. A pal wouldn't make love to your girl on a wet, foggy afternoon in Blackburn or Warrington. What's pals? Pals are fellows who stand on the prompt side of life--so to speak--and stick there to the Ring Down." All of which may or may not be an excellent definition of "paliness," but left Jenny, if possible, more completely ignorant of the meaning of a pal than she was when Mr. Vergoe set out to answer her inquiry. "What's pals?" she reiterated therefore. "Not quite clear in your little head yet--as it were--well, I should say, we're pals, me and you." "Are pals good?" "The best. The very, very best. Now you just listen to me for a minute. My granddaughter, Miss Lilli Vergoe, that is, she's wonderfully fond of the old man, that is your humble. Now next time she comes round to see him, I'll send up the call-boy--as it might be." Hereupon Mr. Vergoe closed his left eye, put his forefinger very close to the other eye, and shook it knowingly several times. "Now you'd better go on or there'll be a stage wait, and get back to ma as quick as you like." Jenny prepared to obey. "Wait a minute, though, wait a minute," and the old man fumbled in a drawer from which at last he extracted a cracker. "See that? That's a cracker, that is. Sometimes one or two used to get hidden in my pockets on last nights, and--well, I used to keep 'em as a recollection of good times, so to speak. This one was Exeter, not so very long ago neither. Now you hook on to that end and I'll hook on to this, and, when I say 'three,' pull as hard as you like." The antagonists faced each other. The cracker came in half with the larger portion in Jenny's hand, but the powder had long ago lost all power of report. Age and damp had subdued its ferocity. "A wrong 'un," muttered the old man regretfully. "Too bad, too bad! Well, accidents will happen--as it were. Come along, open your half." Jenny produced a compact cylinder of mauve paper. "Is it a sweet?" she wondered. "No, it's a cap. By gum, it's a cap. Don't tear it. Steady! Careful does it." Mr. Vergoe was tremendously excited by the prospect. At last between them they unrolled a gilded paper crown, which he placed round Jenny's curls.