_Fourth S.C._ (_an extremely disreputable-looking old gentleman, with a cunningly curled piece of tape on a board_), 'Ere, I'm ole BILLY FAIRPLAY, _I_ am! Come an' try yer fortins at little 'Ide an' Find! Arf a crown yer don't prick the middle o' this bit o' tape. Bet arf a crown, to win five shillin's! (_A school-boy sees his way to doubling his last tip, and speculates._) Wrong agin, my boy! It's old BILLY FAIRPLAY'S luck--for _once_ in a way! [_The School-boy departs, saddened by this most unexpected result._ _Fifth S.C._ (_a fat, fair man, with an impudent frog-face, who is trying desperately hard to take in a sceptical crowd with the too familiar purse-trick_). Now look 'ere, I don't mind tellin' yer all, fair _an_' frank, I'm 'ere to get a bit, if I _can_; but, if you kin ketch me on my _merits_, why, _I_ shan't grumble--I'll promise yer that much! Well, now--(_to a stolid and respectable young Clerk_)--jest to show you don't know _me_, and I don't know _you_--(_he throws three half-crowns into the purse_). There, 'old _that_ for me. Shut it. (_The Clerk does so, grinning._) Thank you--you're a gentleman, though you mayn't look like it--but perhaps you're one in disguise. _Now_ gimme 'arf a crown for it. Yer won't? _Any_ one gimme arf a crown for it? Why--(_unprintable language_)--if ever I see sech a blanky lot o' mugs in _my_ life! 'Ere, I'll try yer once more! (_He does._) _Now_ oo'll gimme arf a crown for it? (_To a Genteel Onlooker, with an eyeglass, who has made an audible comment_) "See 'ow it's done!" So yer orter, with a glazier's shop where yer eye orter be! Well, if anyone had 'a told me I should stand 'ere, on Boat-Race Day too, orferin' six bob for arf a crown, and no one with the ordinary pluck an' straightforwardness to take me at my word, I'd have suspected that man of tellin' me a untruth! (_To a simple-looking spectator._) Will _you_ 'old this purse for me? Yer will? Well. I like the manly way yer speak up! (_Here the_ Gent. Onl., _observing a seedy man slinking about outside, warns the company to "mind their pockets"--which excites the_ Purse-seller's _just indignation_.) "Ere!--(_to the_ G.O.) you take _your_ 'ook! I've 'ad enough o' you. I 'ave. You're a bloomin' sight too officious, _you_ are! Not much in _your_ pockets to mind--'cept the key o' the street, and a ticket o' leave, I'll lay! If you carn't beyave as a Gentleman _among _ Gentlemen, go 'ome to where you 'ad your 'air cut last--to Pentonville! (_The_ G.O. _retires._) There, we shall get along better without '_im_. 'Ow long are you goin' to keep me 'ere? Upon my word an' honour, it's enough to sicken a man to see what the world's come to! Where's yer courage? Where's yer own common sense? Where's your faith in 'umin nature? What do yer _expect_? (_Scathingly._) Want me to wrop it up in a porcel, and send it 'ome for yer? Is _that_ what yer waitin' for! Dammy, if this goes on, I shall git wild, and take and give the bloomin'