Mr. Suggett glanced a little further around the room, and recognized another old acquaintance.
"Ah! Snoggles, how are you?"
"Very well, thank'ee—how be you?"
"Blooming; but how come you here?"
"I dropped in quite permiscuously," answered Snoggles, "and finding good company, stayed. But it is up'ards o' three years since I see you, Mr. Suggett."
"About. What grade do you now fill in the profession? Any promotion?"
"I'm sorry to say not," replied Mr. Snoggles, shaking his head mournfully. "I've tumbled off the box down to a level with the osses;" which, being interpreted, means that Mr. Snoggles had fallen from the high estate of coachman to the less elevated rank of ostler. "But what rank do you now hold?"
"I left off the uniform of tiger last month," answered Mr. Suggett, "and received the brevet of walley-de-chambre."
"That gentleman one of the profession?" demanded Snoggles, alluding to Mr. Whittingham.
"Mr. Markham's butler, sir, at your service," said Whittingham, bowing with awe-inspiring stiffness: "and I may say, without exag-gerating, sir, and in no wise compromising my indefatigable character for weracity, that I'm also Mr. Markham's confidential friend. And what's more, gen'leman," added the butler, glancing proudly around the room, "Mr. Richard Markham is the finest young man about this stupendous city of the whole universe—and that's as true as that this is a hand."