“My friend?”
“Yes, him as you’d been dining with, sir; on’y you don’t seem to ha’ heat much.”
“My friend?”
“Yes, sir; that’s right.”
“Where was it?”
“Pickydilly Circus; ’bout three hours ago.”
“Yes—yes. Well?”
“And he says, ‘Take care of him, kebby,’ he says, ‘and drive him home. Bad cham,’ he says, ‘and he ain’t used to it.’”
“Then why didn’t you drive me home?” cried Chester, angrily.
“S’elp me! I like that!—I did; and no one was sittin’ up for yer; I knocked and rung for ’bout arf an hour before the old chap shoved up the winder and began a-cussin’ and a-swearin’ at me awful.”