The showman ordered in a dish of tripe, of which savoury meat the landlord had procured a large supply on the day previously for his expected customers; and Dibble, the dog, and an interesting young lady in faded silk and curls, were to be the showman’s guests; the young lady being his daughter Christabel, as he informed Dibble, and one of the most rising gals of the day. Supper was laid on a little round table near the fireplace, and an old pewter plate was placed on the floor for Momus. “Give her all the scraps you’ve got, Dick,” the showman said to the waiter, “and I’ll come down ’ansum for it.” Dick brought in a variety of pickings, and heaped them upon the dish; Momus speedily devoured them, and then lay down beside the plate, at her master’s request, “becos there was tripe to foller.” The tripe came in at length, hot and steaming, and floating about in a milky flood redolent of onions. A candle was placed in the middle of the table, and the showman held it over the brown dish for a moment to feast his eyes upon the contents, and then he dashed in a wooden spoon and served out a plateful to Dibble and his daughter, a few inches to Momus, and a large quantity for himself. They all set-to with a will, Christabel making short work with her allowance, and helping herself to more, with sudden rapidity. Her father cautioned her not to be greedy. She only deigned to reply in one word, the meaning of which, under the circumstances, seemed to be particularly significant; for her father began to heap more tripe upon his own plate, and Dibble began to ply his knife and fork with increased rapidity. “Walker” was the word which the fair Christabel had used with such magic effect; but there was no necessity for the alarm which it evidently created in her fond parent’s breast, seeing that she could not eat the whole of that second lot, and the showman and Dibble were not compelled to stint their appetites. After supper, the showman lighted a short pipe, and ordered rum-and-water for three; Christabel brought some mysterious article of finery from her basket, and began to sew; and the three looked particularly happy and contented. The showman drank Dibble’s health, and then asked him what his little game might be. Dibble drank the showman’s health and the young lady’s, and said he did not know what the showman meant. “Gammon,” said the showman. “Did yer ’ear that, Momus?” Momus did not, for she was fast asleep at her master’s feet. “Ever been in the profession?” the showman inquired. Dibble looked puzzled, and said “No.” “I mean the show business,” said the man, blowing a cloud of smoke into the candlelight. “No, I’ve been in different employ,” said Dibble, feeling hot and comfortable with so much eating and drinking. “Looking for work?” “Yes,” said Dibble. “Would you like the show business?” “Shouldn’t mind anything to turn an honest penny,” said Dibble.