The next day, who should march into the house but the young imp himself, without so much as even a single button left on his beautiful jacket; and when I asked him what he had done with them, he told me quite coolly that he’d been gambling at dumps, and having staked his all, had lost the whole of my beautiful plated sugar-loafs at one unlucky throw! This put me in such a horrid pet, that I raised my hand to give the young monkey a box on the ears, which he should remember to his dying day, when, bless us and save us! if the whiskerless Turk didn’t throw himself into one of the boldest attitudes of “the noble art” of self-defence, and spitting in the palm of one of his hands--a dirty young imp!--began dancing about, too, and bobbing his head, and sparring away at me, saying, “Come on old un! I should like to see you do it.” “Oh, you wicked young coward,” I cried; “what, would you strike a poor woman--augh!” “Wouldn’t I though,” upon my word the monkey answered, “if she goes hitting on me fust.” I told him to take himself down stairs as quick as ever he could, and when Mr. Sk--n--st--n came home, we’d see if he would strike _him_. Bother take the boy, there was no keeping him quiet anyhow! Now, for instance, I was obliged to go to the expense of having his livery done up, for, of course, I couldn’t see the urchin going about the disreputable figure he was. Well, a day or two after I had got him to look something like decent, I wanted to go and see dear mother, merely to ask the good old soul, whether--as the heat was so oppressive--she had got a good receipt for making ginger beer, and any old stone bottles she could spare me. As I was only going that short distance, I thought there would be no use in taking Duffy away from his work--especially as I didn’t see the necessity of letting him know who and what my friends were, or of pointing out to the fat stuck-up pig that the merchant I had made out my respected father to be was merely a coal ditto, and the vessels which I had spoken so often of before him at meals, were merely two barges filled with the very finest knubbly “Lord Mayors.” And as for taking that young Wittals to walk behind me as a protector, bless you! it was worse than useless. Besides, the young monkey had got a tongue as long as my arm, and I should have those filthy, shameful, wicked, false reports, flying all about the neighbourhood again, with their precious “Mrs. Sk--n--st--n’s friends is only heavers.” Heavers! pretty heavers, indeed!