"Well, that's a funny story, doctor; and since you know how to cure it, the first time I meet with a sick goose I'll send him to you." "Many thanks; but, as it is, there's plenty of geese to send for the doctor." "That's true enough. And now, Master Jack, you've had quite enough for your penny and I won't allow Ben to be kept waiting any longer." "You are not going to tell any more stories, doctor?" said I. "Why, you mud-larking vagabond, you don't mean to say that I've told stories? Be off with you! And, I say, as you pass round the corner, just tell Tom that I'm coming home directly." "Won't that be a story, doctor?" said I, as I went out of the door. I heard them both laugh, but I did not hear what they said. CHAPTER TWELVE. I PREFER A SUIT TO OLD NANNY, AND PROCURE A NEW SUIT OF CLOTHES--THE ADVANTAGE OF BEING WELL DRESSED--YOU MAY WALK OUT WITH THE LADIES. The reader must not give me too much credit when I tell him that, ever since I had been under the tuition of Peter Anderson, I had quite a craving to go to church. Although what I had gained from his precepts and explanations had increased my desire, still I must acknowledge that the strongest reason for my being so anxious was that my mother would not take me, and did take Virginia. Further, my curiosity was excited by my absolute ignorance of what the church service consisted; I had heard the bells toll, and, as I sauntered by, would stop and listen to the organ and the singing. I would sometimes wait, and see the people coming out; and then I could not help comparing my ragged dress with their clean and gay attire.