If the miller’s man had enjoyed himself before, he was not to be envied now. The Cheap Jack’s wife poured forth her woes in a continuous stream of complaint. She minutely described the purse which she had lost, the age and quality of her dress, and the impossibility of there being a hole in her pocket. She took George’s arm once more, and insisted upon revisiting every stall and show where they had been, to see if her purse had been found. Up and down George toiled with her, wiping his face and feeling that he looked like a fool, as at each place in turn they were told that they might as well “look for a needle in a bottle of hay,” and that pickpockets were as plenty at a mop as blackberries in September. He was tired of the woman now she was troublesome, and fidgetingly persevering, as women are apt to be, and he was vexed to feel how little money was left in his right-hand pocket. He did not think of feeling in the left one, not merely because the Cheap Jack was standing in front of him, but because no fear for the safety of its contents had dawned upon him. It was easy for a woman to lose her purse out of a pocket flapping loosely in the drapery of her skirts, but that any thing stowed tightly away in a man’s waistcoat under his smock could be stolen in broad daylight without his knowledge did not occur to him. As little did he guess that of all the pickpockets who were supposed to drive a brisk trade at the fair, the quickest, the cleverest, the most practised professional was the Cheap Jack’s wife. She had feigned to see “something” on the ground near an oyster stall, which she said “might be” her purse. As indeed it might as well as any thing else, seeing that the said purse had no existence. As she left them, George turned to the Cheap Jack. “Look ’ee here, Jack,” said he; “take thee missus whoam. She do seem to be so put about, ’tis no manner of use her stopping in the mop. And I be off for a pint of something to wash my throat out. I be mortal dry with running up and down after she. Women does make such a caddle about things.” “You might stand a pint for an old friend, George, my dear,” said the Cheap Jack, following him. But George hurried on, and shook his head. “No, no,” said he; “tak’ thee missus whoam, I tell ’ee. She’ve not seen much at your expense to-day, if she have lost her pus.” With which the miller’s man escaped into the King’s Arms, and pushed his way to the farthest end of the room, where a large party of men were drinking and smoking. At a table near him sat the recruiting sergeant whom he had noticed before, and he now examined him more closely.