_Melia._ I do wish 'twas over--Kip a good 'art, JOE; don't let 'un go knockin' ye about! _Joe_ (_with a slight decrease of confidence_). Theer's a way to talk! I doan't reckon as 'ow he'll _kill_ me, not in three rounds, I doan't, but if I'd a-know'd there'd be all this messin' about fust, I'd a-- [_He goes inside gloomily._ [Illustration: "Theer they are! Oh my, what a pictur'!"] INSIDE THE SPARRING SALOON. _The Spectators are waiting patiently around the ropes; the Professor is still on the platform, expatiating on the coming contest. JOE has found a friend whom he has entrusted with his hat and coat._ _Joe_ (_to the Friend_). Jest kip a heye on these 'ere, will ye! [_He hands him a huge pair of highlows._ _Prof._ (_calling in_). Fur the larst time, come outside and show yerselves, all on yer! _The Friend._ You got to go out agin, JOE, better putt on yer coat an' 'at, not to ketch cold! _Joe._ Ah, and I'll 'ave to 'ave they bo-oots on agen, too. (_He gets into his things in a great flurry, and hastens outside._) 'Tis enough to take th' 'art out of a man, thet 'tis! [_More exhortations from Proprietor, until the last Spectator has been induced to enter the Saloon, whereupon the Champions return, and the hangings at the entrance are finally drawn._ _Prof._ (_acting as Timekeeper_). Now then, all ready? (_To JOE._) In you go--What are yer waitin' for? Never mind about takin' orf yer boots! Gentlemen, BATTERS o' Bermondsey is agoin' to fight three rounds with a volunteer, one o' your own men. Whatever you see between 'em (_solemnly_), pass no remarks! Time! [_JOE and "BATTERS o' Bermondsey" walk round each other and make a fumbling attempt to shake hands, after which JOE, while preparing to deliver a blow with extreme caution and deliberation, is surprised by a smart smack on his cheek, which makes him stagger; he recovers himself and prances down on BATTERS with a windmill action._ _Batters_ (_limping into his corner_). 'Ere, I say, ole man--moind my tows--foight at yer right _end_! _Joe_ (_apologetically_). I didn't mean nothing unfair-like--I _warnted_ fur to take off them 'ere boots--but I warn't let! _Batters._ I'll _let_ ye--fur 'taint no corpet slippers as you've got on, ole feller, I tell yer strite! [_JOE removes the offending boots._ _Spectators_ (_during the second round, which is fought with more spirit than science on JOE'S part_). Ah, JOE ain't no match for 'un--he let un _'ave_ it then, didn't he? My word! but it's "Go 'ome an' tell yer Mother, an' ax yer Uncle 'ow ye be" with 'un, pretty near every time!