Kezia accompanied Owen to Mr Snipton's, a respectable tailor in the City, where she ordered an entire suit and a thoroughly comfortable topcoat. "Take his measure," she said, "and allow for his growing; remember Simon Fluke will pay for the things." Mr Snipton did as he was directed, and while Owen hurried on to overtake Mr Fluke before he reached the office, Kezia returned home. Owen had, however, to wear his threadbare jacket for some days longer. During this period he was returning one evening, and was crossing Bishopsgate Street, when a hooded gig, or cab, as it was called, containing two young gentlemen--one of whom, dressed in a naval uniform, was driving--came dashing along at a rapid rate. It was in a narrow part of the street, of which a waggon and some other vehicles occupied a considerable portion. In attempting to pass between the waggon and pavement the cab was driven against the hinder wheel of the ponderous waggon, which was going in the same direction that it was--towards the Bank. The natural consequence ensued--the horse came down, and both the young gentlemen were thrown out, one narrowly escaping falling under the wheel of the waggon, while the tiger behind, whose head struck against the hood, fell off stunned. Owen ran forward to render what assistance he could. "Go to the horse's head, boy!" exclaimed the elder of the gentlemen, addressing Owen in an imperious tone, while he was picking himself up. "Reginald, are you hurt?" "Not much," was the answer of the younger, who began swearing in no measured terms at the waggoner for not keeping out of the way, and ordering him to stop. The latter, however, taking no notice of this, went on. "They got the worst of it this time," he muttered. "Better that than to have run over an old woman, as I see'd just such a pair as they do not long ago." A fresh volley of abuse uttered by the young naval officer followed the retreating waggoner. "Come, Reginald, don't waste your breath on the rascal," cried the elder gentleman. "I'll help the boy to hold down the horse, while you undo the traces. What's become of Cato?" "Here I, my Lord," said the black tiger, who, having partially recovered, now came hobbling up. Owen, in the meantime, had been using every exertion to keep down the spirited horse, until the harness, detached from the cab, would allow the animal to rise without injuring itself. Several persons, mostly idle men and women, instead of coming forward to assist, stood by, amused at the disaster which had occurred to the gentlemen. "Had but the young cove kept a decent tongue in his head plenty would have been ready to help him," remarked one of the bystanders. The black boy seemed somewhat afraid of the horse, and having scarcely recovered was of no use. The gentlemen, therefore, had to depend on their own exertions, aided by Owen. The one called Reginald, when once he set to work, quickly got the harness unstrapped.