The moment he was gone, Grimaldi burst into a great roar of laughter, which his friend took in high dudgeon, muttering various observations regarding extravagance, which were responded to by divers remarks relative to shabbiness. Neither of them gave way, and the supper arrangement was regularly acted upon; Grimaldi always having some warm dish of game or poultry, and Bologna solacing himself with a Welsh rare-bit, and the reflection of having saved money while his companion spent it. They stayed at Chester nine days in all, and when the bills were brought at last, found, as Grimaldi had anticipated, that the charges were moderate, and well merited by the manner in which they had been accommodated. "Well, Bologna," said Grimaldi, with a triumphant air, "are you satisfied?" "Pretty well," he replied. "I must acknowledge that the bills are not so heavy as I feared they would have been; but there is one terrible mistake in mine. Look here! they have charged me for supper every night just as they have charged you. That must be wrong, you know: I have had nothing but Welsh rare-bits!" "Certainly," said Grimaldi, looking over the bill. "You had better ring for the waiter: I have no doubt he can explain the matter." The bell was rung, and the waiter came. "Oh! here's a mistake, waiter," said Bologna, handing him the bill. "You have charged me for supper every night here, and you'll remember I only had a Welsh rare-bit. Just get it altered, will you?" "I beg your pardon, sir," replied the waiter, glancing from the bill to the customer; "it's quite right, sir." "Quite right?" "Quite, sir: it's the rule of the house, sir the rule of every house on the road to charge in that way. Half-a-crown for supper, sir; cold beef, fowl, game, or bread and cheese: always half-a-crown, sir. There were a great many other dishes that you might have had; but you recollect giving a particular order for a Welsh rare-bit, sir?" The saving man said not another word, but paid the nine half-crowns for the nine Welsh rare-bits, to his own great wrath and his friend's unspeakable amusement. The next morning they returned to London, and on the road Grimaldi had another instance of his companion's parsimony, which determined him never to travel in his company again. When the coach came to the door, he was perfectly amazed to find that the economical Harlequin was going to travel outside, but not surprised to hear him whisper, when he expressed his astonishment, that he should save a pound by it, or more. "Yes," answered Grimaldi, "and catch a cold by sitting outside all night, after your exertions at the theatre, which will cost you 20_l._ at least." "You know nothing about it," replied Bologna, with a wink: "I shall be safe inside as well as you." "What! and pay outside fare?"