"Beastly day," growled Mr. Higgins. "I'm shaking all over."
"What's good for the complaint?"
"Quartern o' rum, to commence with."
"I have to work for my living," said Dick, brightly, "and if you insist upon my standing you a quartern of rum you'll have to carry the paste pot."
"See you--hanged first," said Mr. Higgins, with a mirthless laugh.
"Think better of it," said Dick, insinuatingly, holding out the paste pot.
After a moment's hesitation Mr. Higgins thought better of it, and took the paste pot, with a grimace, to the imminent risk of the contents. Then Dick dismissed the printer's boy, and with the bundle of damp bills under his arm walked over to the publichouse, Mr. Higgins, carrying the shaking paste pot, and following close at his heels.
"Where will you have your rum," he asked, "at the bar, or in a private room?"
"Private room," said Mr. Higgins. "Better for all parties."
They were soon accommodated, and liquor supplied, bitter ale for Dick, and rum for the old man, which he disposed of in one gulp. He then demanded another quartern, which Dick called for, and disposed of it in an equally expeditious manner.