“If Dr. Pillie has his full sleep this night, I shall be astonished”; and Evan hastily led Jack into the passage to impart to him, that the extent of his resources was reduced to the smallest of sums in shillings. “I can beat my friend at that reckoning,” said Mr. Raikes; and they entered the room. Eyes were on him. This had ever the effect of causing him to swell to monstrous proportions in the histrionic line. Asking the waiter carelessly for some light supper dish, he suggested the various French, with “not that?” and the affable naming of another. “Nor that? Dear me, we shall have to sup on chops, I believe!” Evan saw the chairman scrutinizing Raikes, much as he himself might have done, and he said: “Bread and cheese for me.” Raikes exclaimed: “Really? Well, my lord, you lead, and your taste is mine!” A second waiter scudded past, and stopped before the chairman to say: “If you please, sir, the gentlemen upstairs send their compliments, and will be happy to accept.” “Ha!” was the answer. “Thought better of it, have they! Lay for three more, then. Five more, I guess.” He glanced at the pair of intruders. Among a portion of the guests there had been a return to common talk, and one had observed that he could not get that “Good Evening,” and “Good Night,” out of his head which had caused a friend to explain the meaning of these terms of salutation to him: while another, of a philosophic turn, pursued the theme: “You see, when we meets, we makes a night of it. So, when we parts, it’s Good Night—natural! ain’t it?” A proposition assented to, and considerably dilated on; but whether he was laughing at that, or what had aroused the fit, the chairman did not say. Gentle chuckles had succeeded his laughter by the time the bread and cheese appeared. In the rear of the provision came three young gentlemen, of whom the foremost lumped in, singing to one behind him, “And you shall have little Rosey!” They were clad in cricketing costume, and exhibited the health and manners of youthful Englishmen of station. Frolicsome young bulls bursting on an assemblage of sheep, they might be compared to. The chairman welcomed them a trifle snubbingly. The colour mounted to the cheeks of Mr. Raikes as he made incision in the cheese, under their eyes, knitting his brows fearfully, as if at hard work. The chairman entreated Evan to desist from the cheese; and, pulling out his watch, thundered: “Time!” The company generally jumped on their legs; and, in the midst of a hum of talk and laughter, he informed Evan and Jack, that he invited them cordially to a supper up-stairs, and would be pleased if they would partake of it, and in a great rage if they would not. Raikes was for condescending to accept. Evan sprang up and cried: “Gladly, sir,” and gladly would he have cast his cockney schoolmate to the winds, in the presence of these young cricketers; for he had a prognostication.