"It isn't you I's complaining of, cooky," rejoined Bobsey; "it's the vork. If a cove vants to go for to commit suicide vell, hall he 'as to do is to take a place in a academy for young gentlemen. Sit down, my noble swell from furrin' parts; we hain't a-goin' to heat you, and I don't bear no malice agin' anyone." Tommy took a seat between the two. There was a ring at the bell. "Vot is that bell a-ringing for?" said Bobsey. "They've got a scuttle of coal in the schoolroom; ditto in the parlor; the young gentlemen 'as 'ad their supper, and the ole woman has got some 'ot water for her nightcap." "What does she want hot water for her nightcap for?" asked Tommy. "She takes a little gin 'ot before she goes to bed." "Shall I answer the bell?" "If you don't, I shan't," replied Bobsey; "as you're engaged, I may consider myself on leave of habsence--eh, cooky?" "Of course," replied Susan. "Servants have their rights, and who'd blame you, Bobsey?" "You hadmire my spirit, cooky?" "Indeed I do." Bobsey got up and removed a coat he wore, made of blue cloth and ornamented in the front with bright silver-colored buttons. "Take the badge of servitude!" he exclaimed. "I discard it. Cos vy? Not cos I'm sacked, but I've got a hindependent spirit which vill never be satisfied till the earth of this country runs red with the blood of the haristocrats." Susan regarded Bobsey with admiration not unmixed with awe. "Don't he talk beautiful?" she said. "Yes," answered Tommy. "'Ow is it in the Hunited States?" inquired Bobsey. "Very much the same as it is here," replied Tommy; "we've all got to work." "Hain't you hall masters and no servants?" "Not exactly. One man considers himself as good as another, but's a mighty hard place for working and finding your level." The bell rang again. "Put on the badge," said Bobsey. "I'll take it heasy." With some difficulty Tommy got into the coat, which was several sizes too small for him, and only by dint of holding his breath could he get the buttons to go into the holes prepared for them. He felt that if he was compelled to undergo any unusual exertion, the buttons would fly off like bullets from a rifle when the trigger falls. "Shall I do?" he asked. "First-rate," replied Bobsey. "You looks a A No. 1 Buttons, and no mistake." Tommy hastened upstairs to answer the ringing of the bell, which summoned him to the parlor where Mr. and Mrs. Floyd were seated, the young gentlemen being in the schoolroom indulging in half an hour's conversational recreation before prayers, which preceded their retirement to their dormitories. Entering the parlor, he inquired: "Did you ring, sir?" "Ah--h'm," replied the Rev. C. Floyd. "This is very good. He'll do, my dear; I think, though, the coat is a little tight for him. Yes, I did ring. You are putting too much coal on the fire downstairs. It makes our chimney smoke." "I wish he could stop our chimney; the nasty thing chokes me," remarked Mrs. Floyd.