"Give the lady a chance to breathe," cried the young man in his large and lazy voice.
The crowd withdrew a little.
"Say, Guv'nor!—do they call you Tinee?" called one.
"No; his name's Silver," said another. "They calls you Silver Mug, don't they, mister?"
"I believe so," replied the young man, unmoved.
He was fair game: for he was very big, clearly good-humoured, spick and span to a fault, and a member of another class.
They gathered with glee to the baiting.
"That ain't because of his name, stoopid. That's because he's got a silver linin' to his mug, ain't it, sir?"
"Silver!—gold, you mean. 'E breathes gold, that bloke do, and then it settles on the roof of his jaw. Say, Blokey, open your mug and let's 'ave a peep. I'll put a penny in."