Th' porter couldn't do anything when he seed that, but th' Director sent for th' stashun maister, an made an awful shindy; he sed 'at Sydney wor mad, an ha he'd threatened him wi' a knife, an aw dooant know what beside--but Sydney wor soa polite, an whispered to th' Stashun maister, "at he thowt th' owd feller had had too mich to sup, for he'd been smookin hissen as they could easy find aght if they smell'd his breeath." Soa th' Stashun maister sed he couldn't do owt, as it wor a smookin carriage, soa Sydney wor allowed to goa to th' Hotel, leeavin 'em to feight it aght as they liked. Th' last thing he thowt ov that neet befooar he fell asleep wor, ha Mabel wod laugh next day when he telled her abaat it. Next mornin when he'd had his braikfast, he donned hissen up smart as a chap owt to do when he's gooin a cooartin, an set off in a cab to Mabel's father's haase. Th' lass wor lukkin aght for him, an after a bit o' kussin an huggin (as is suitable at sich times) Sydney sed he mud as weel see her father an get it ovver. "He's in th' library," sed Mabel. "Nah for it," Sydney sed, as they stood aghtside th' door, "gie me another kuss, lass, to keep me up to th' mark, an eh! aw've sich a joke to tell thi abaat afterwards." Mabel kussed him ageean, an then shoo oppen'd th' door an walked in, wi Sydney followin behund feelin varry uncumfortable, for its noa joke aw can tell yo axin an owd gentleman to gie yo his dowter. Mister Mothersdale wor sittin at a table, writin a letter, when they went in an he didn't luk up till Mabel sed:--"Papa, dear, this is Mister Horne, th' gentleman I told yo abaat, who protected me from that ruffian i' Sheffield, who tried to rob me." He lukked up, and Sydney felt like to sink into his booits, for if it worn't th' varry owd chap at he'd travelled in th' train wi' th' neet befooar. Nah tho' Sydney knew th' owd chap in a crack, by gooid luck Mabel's father hadn't his glasses on, soa he didn't mak him aght at furst. "Awm varry fain to mak yor acquaintance, sir," he sed, "my dowter has towd me ha kind yo wor i' Sheffield, an aw wish to thank yo for it." Sydney wor soa flayed ov th' owd feller rememberin his voice, 'at he shoved a hawpny into his maath befooar he spake, an then he sed:--"Aw didn't do much awm sewer, Sir. It wor nowt at all." "Have aw ivver met yo befooar," Mister Mothersdale axt, "aw seem to know yor voice?" "Net as aw know on," Sydney answered, feelin at he wor in for a thunderin lot o' lyin. "Mister Horne's niver been i' Brummagem befooar," Mabel sed. "It's varry strange," th' owd man went on, as he put his specs on, "aw seem to know yor voice soa weel, an dear-a-me yor face reminds me ov sumdy but aw cannot tell who." Nah Sydney wor dressed quite different thro what he had th' neet befooar, an while Mabel's father wor puzzlin his heead abaat it, Mabel sed "Aw showed yo a photograph o' Mister Horne, papa, praps that's it?"