"How do you come to have so much?" inquired Walter.
"Why, my jolly old brick of an uncle gave me five shillings when he heard I was coming here."
"I wish he was my uncle," sighed Walter, whose parents were very poor. "But I say, Chris, is this the way to the panorama?"
"No, but I'm thirsty. I'm going into the palace to get a glass of beer. You can go on to the panorama if you're so anxious about it."
But Walter was far too much afraid of getting lost among the crowds of people in the "thundering big garden" to part from his companion. He had never been more than ten miles from his native village until to-day, and he felt quite bewildered at all the strange sights and sounds.
He followed Chris, who proceeded to a refreshment counter, and asked for beer.
"We don't sell wine or beer, or anything of the sort, sir," was the answer. "It's against the rules of the palace, and we've no licence."
Nothing made Chris so savage as to be thwarted in anything he wanted to do.
"Then it's a stupid place, and it ought to be ashamed of itself," he said angrily; "but if I can't get it here, I'll go where I can."
He turned on his heel and walked quickly away, followed by the much-vexed Walter.