Arrived at the "Trotting Nag," the Professor was most reluctant to leave the security of the cab, and merely met the cabman's reminder that he had arrived at his destination, with an "Ah, yes; so I observe." Finally collecting the fare from the depths of a waistcoat pocket, he thrust it hurriedly through the roof, and hastily descended. Without looking ahead, he made for the door of the public bar, entering with a run, and cannoning violently against a navvy coming out, who had consumed sufficient beer to become severely critical of the manners of other people. This individual, having recovered his balance against the door-post, promptly inquired "where the 'ell the old image was agoin' to?" But the Professor had sought the far end of the bar, and was inquiring nervously, and with many smiles, if Mrs. Toplady could be seen. A good-looking barmaid regarded him with speculation in her eye, then remarked: "I think she is in. Is it about the gas?" The Professor assured her it was not, but quite a private matter, upon which the barmaid withdrew, and a moment later Min Toplady herself emerged, and gave an exclamation of astonishment. "Bless my soul! Why, it's Master Frank!" The remark attracted some attention in the bar, one of the customers remarking that the Professor was "a bit old-fashioned" for a kid, as Min raised the flap of the bar, and escorted her guest through it to the parlour, where a few privileged friends had the right of entrée. It was empty now, the harassed Professor was relieved to find, and as he stood before the fire, and looked anxiously through the door into the bar, Min's hospitable mind mistook his meaning. "What will you be pleased to take, Master Frank?" she inquired, and the Professor looked at her blandly as his fingers flitted lightly round his face. "Take?" he repeated. "Oh, nothing, I thank you. I seldom indulge, you know." "Oh, but you must have something, sir, if only for the good of the house, as some of the boys say who have had more than is good for them already, just on closing time," she insisted. The Professor thought of his errand, and in the exuberant presence of Min, felt his courage slipping away from him. Perhaps a little drop of something might revive him, he thought--a little "jumping powder," as those sporting friends of Gay's would call it. But Min had already disappeared into the bar, and quickly returned, bearing a small glass. "Being such a cold day, a drop of milk punch won't do you no harm, sir," she said, putting the glass down before the Professor. "It's a wonderful thing for warming the cockles of your heart, and it always does my indigestion--to which I'm a martyr--a power of good." The Professor could trace no direct connection between the cockles of his heart and Min's indigestion, but nevertheless he took the proffered drink gratefully, and sipped it with the air of a connoisseur, while Min sat down, and racked her brains to find a reason for his visit.