Then he lay back and went to sleep. I woke him up when the cab stopped. "Come along," I said; "here we are. You sling on to the turkey. I'll pay the man." I followed him into the hall, and found him standing there with the basket under one arm and the turkey under the other. "Put those things in the cloak-room," I whispered hurriedly. "Everyone is laughing at you." "Let 'em laugh," he replied, looking round defiantly. "You 'member what Sol-Solomon says about thorns under a pot. The turkey's coming in to dinner with me." "Pitman," I said, "I'm ashamed of you." He walked up to the cloak-room, and deposited his coat, hat, and stick. Then he put the turkey into the basket. "Shall I take that, sir?" inquired the attendant. "No," said Pitman haughtily; "leave him alone." "That will be all right," I interposed, giving the man a shilling. I was curious to see what would happen. Pitman marched downstairs to the grill-room, carrying the basket. The place was crowded. "I want a table for three," he said to the waiter. The latter looked at him curiously. "Shall I take that outside, sir?" Pitman drew himself up. "Don't you dare to touch him." We were beginning to attract attention, so I settled the matter by leading the way across the room to the further corner, where there was an empty table. We sat down, and, taking the turkey out of the basket, Pitman proceeded to prop it up in the vacant chair, to the intense interest and joy of the people at the surrounding tables. The waiter whose duty it was to attend to us entered into the spirit of the joke, his sense of humour being probably quickened by a prophetic instinct with regard to our financial value. "Dinner for three, sir?" he inquired. Pitman examined the menu with some deliberation, and settled upon a satisfactory little programme. He is acquainted with my weaknesses. "My other friend," he said, pointing to the turkey, "will begin with a little thick soup." At this point the manager of the restaurant arrived. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I'm afraid I must request you to remove that bird," he began in a firm but apologetic tone. "The other ladies and gentlemen, you know, sir----" This put Pitman on his dignity. "If they object to my friends I will leave the restaurant," he replied. A genial-looking man at the next table here joined in the conversation. "I for one," he said, "am delighted to be in such interesting society." "You hear that!" cried Pitman triumphantly. "Go away, manager. No, stop a minute; have a drink?" The manager shook his head. "Thank you very much, sir; but I'm afraid it would be against my rules. Of course, if the other guests don't object to the bird I have nothing further to say." He shrugged his shoulders and walked away.