Ocky retreated into the darkness of the interior. He had promised Peter he would become a good man and for once was ashamed of himself. Seated by his side, Peter felt after his hand. “Don't mind what he says.” “But I am. It's true. I've been a mucker to you from first to last.” Ocky coughed; the water in the tank had given him a cold on the chest. “I'm sure you haven't. Anyhow, you're going to be better now.” “Going to try till I bust.” As the cab lumbered out on to the Terrace a man saw it. He scratched his head, thought twice, then began to run and follow. Coming up behind he did what street-urchins do--he stole a ride on the springs, crouching low so as to be unobserved. Cat's Meat alone was aware that something wrong had happened. He felt the extra weight and halted. “Kum up.” He refused to come up. “Kum up, won't yer?” No, he wouldn't. He planted his feet firmly. There was something that had to be explained to him first. Very reluctantly Mr. Grace got out his whip--it was there for ornament; he rarely used it. “Nar, look 'ere old friend, h'I don't wanter do it.” But he had to. Cat's Meat shook his head sorrowfully and looked round. His feelings were hurt. When his master was drunk he accepted worse punishment than that without resentment, but his master wasn't drunk now. Mr. Grace laid the whip again across his back. Cat's Meat shrugged his shoulders and snorted, as much as to say, “Don't blame me. Never say I didn't warn yer.” Then he moved slowly forward. “Now h'I wonder wot was the meanin' o' that?” reflected Mr. Grace. “Don't like 'is cargo, h'I bet. Well, h'I don't, either. Won'erful h'intelligent h'of 'im!” Inside the cab Peter was asking, “But if you don't like the 'medicine,' why do you take it?” “Life's dull for a chap,” said Ocky. He would have said more, but was shaken by a fit of coughing. They crawled along by ill-lighted streets purposely, avoiding main thoroughfares. As they drew up outside the Misses Jacobite's house, Peter saw the slits of the Venetian blinds turned and guessed that four tremulous ladies were watching. He opened the door for his uncle to get out As Mr. Waffles alighted, a man jumped from behind the cab. “Yer caught, Cockie. Come along quiet.” Mr. Grace heaved himself round. “Wot the devil!” He was blinking into the eyes of Grace's policeman. “We can walk to the station,” said Grace's policeman, “but h'if you'd care to drive us---- Yer seem kind o' fond o' conductin' this party round.” “I'll drive 'im, but I'll be 'anged h'if I'll drive you, yer great fat mutton 'ead.” “Mutton 'ead yerself.” Peter jumped into the gap. “Oh, do drive them, Mr. Grace. Don't let him be dragged there in public.” “If that's the wye yer feel abart it---- Anythin' fer you, Master Peter.” “Look 'ere,” said Grace's policeman, “h'I'm in love with yer darter--as good as one o' the family. We don't need to sye nothink abart the keb.” “Get in, mutton 'ead.” They got in.