“Very well,” said the young blade, “then let somebody else have a go.” Somebody else did now accept the invitation, and ere the train was free of the last streets of town conversation became general, and he had to raise his voice in order to preserve for himself the lead. “You can’t tell me nothing I don’t know about London,” he shouted. “I’ve lived there for the last three years, and I reckon I’m more of a Londoner than any one who was born there. Look ’ere; we can soon put it to the test. How many comic songs of the present day have any of you got in your repertoire? What about you, uncle?” “My young friend,” protested the middle-aged man, “I have met, in my time, a good many bounders of all shapes and sorts and sizes, but you are the limit. Why don’t you behave yourself quietly when you’re in the presence of your betters?” “I always do,” he replied. “Now then, if any one can give an imitation of George Robey, let him do it; if not, I’ll have a try to do the best I can. It’ll shorten the journey for you.” They admitted his effort was not so bad, and two or three of his own age began to regard him enviously. Having regained command, he took care not to lose it again, and by the time the train stopped at its first junction he had secured an attentive audience; even the middle-aged man, on the train re-starting, asked how far he was going. The lad, with a glance out of the window, said he was not yet near his destination, but promised to give full warning when the time came near for them to endure the wrench of saying good-bye. He conquered the middle-aged man, but appeared not satisfied with his victory, and, exercising the power of a tyrant, gave him a nick-name and invented a description of the domestic environments, insisting, in spite of the man’s assertion that he was a bachelor, on offering a lively account of the masterful behaviour of the man’s wife, her authority over him, his servile and penitent behaviour. “A confounded young cad!” declared the other, heatedly, “that’s what you are. Most offensive specimen I ever encountered. Perfect curse to society.” “Isn’t he a daisy?” asked the youth of the others. “Isn’t he a arum lily? Isn’t he a china ornament?” “Leave him alone!” urged one of the others. “Right you are,” he said, amiably. “I’ll give you a turn now.”