"Yes: what's it for?" said Buddy. "Beer," said Sam, fiercely, "beer! Many's the 'arfpint I've poured in there along of his chopped meat, jest to cheer him up a bit, and he aint got no missus to smell his breath. I thought that 'ud make 'im go if anythink would." "Well, didn't it?" said Buddy, rubbing his ear with the spoke-brush. "Didn't it?" said Sam. "Lets out at me with his orf 'ind leg, and then comes clay mill, and goes round and round till he oughter 'ave been dizzy, but he worn't. There never was sech a ungrateful beast." Buddy grinned as Sam stuffed back the nose-bag, the horse shaking his head the while. "Try it on me, Sam," said Buddy, as the driver prepared to mount. "I won't let out with no orf 'ind legs." Sam winked, and climbed to his perch. "What's the flowers for, Sam?" said the helper. "The missus. Goin' to call for her, and drive her to Upper 'ollerway," said Sam, "afore I goes on the rank." "Oh, will you tell her," said Buddy, earnestly, "as Ginger's ever so much better, and can a'most putt his little leg to the ground? He eats that stuff she brought him like fun." "What stuff was that?" said Sam, gathering up the reins. "Sorter yaller jally," said Buddy. "What, as smells o' lemons?" said Sam. "Yes, that's it," said Buddy; "he just do like it." "How long's he been bad now?" "Twelve weeks," said Buddy; "and he's been 'most worn to skin and bone; but he's pulling up now. Takes his corn." "Mornin'," said Sam. He tried to start; but Batty moved sidewise, laid a blinker against the whitewashed wall of the yard, and rubbed it up and down, so that it had to be wiped over with a wet leather by Buddy; and when that was done, he tried to back the cab into a narrow stable door. After that, though, he seemed better, and began to go in a straight line. "Tried that there game at a plate-glass winder t'other day," said Sam, shouting over his shoulder as he left the yard. "He'd ha' done it, too, if it hadn't been for a lamp-post." Sam and his steed went gently out of Grey's Inn Lane towards Pentonville, where, in a little quiet street, Mrs Jenkles resided, and Sam began musing as he went along-- "I smelt that there stuff in the cupboard, and meant to ask her what it was, but I forgot. On'y to think of her making that up, and taking it to poor Buddy's little bairn! Well, she's a good sort, is the missus, on'y she will be so hard on me about a drop o' beer. 'Old that there 'ead still, will yer? What are yer lookin' arter, there? Oh! that cats-meat barrer. Ah! yer may well shy at that, Ratty; I don't wonder at it. Now, then, get on, old boy, the missus 'll be waiting."