'Me again?' said Chops.

'Does my father—does Mr Lee—know your parents, or know where they live? Did he meet you there first?'

'Miss Lotty, Biffins Lee, the man as was yer father, but ain't now no more, doesn't know nuffin', an' I wouldn't go for to trust 'im not the valuedom of a tin whistle. Biffins Lee picked me up at a penny gaff, w'ere I were a hactin' the horphan chee-ild.'

'Well,' said Lotty, thoughtfully but cheerfully, 'I think if I went to your mother's cottage till I got teaching or something, I would be very happy.'

This somewhat adipose lad had a very good-humoured face and a kindly eye; but he could have struck no one as being a devotee at the histrionic shrine. Yet, nevertheless, his one ambition was to become some day a tragedian, and strut the boards, perhaps even as Othello himself. At this very moment he must strike an attitude, and with arm uplifted towards the eastern stars give voice as follows:

'The lot in life o' this poor son o' toil 'as not been a joyful one 'itherto. Torn from the harms o' 'is weepin' parents at a hearly age, 'e was attached to the great conglomeration o' Biffins Lee. Though fed like a queen-bee in order that 'e might take the part of Roly Poly in the Christmas pant., or 'Umpty Dumpty on the Wall, with every bite 'e got to heat 'e received a buffet, an' on the cold, cold ground on w'ich 'e slept tears used to chase each other hover 'is face as large as limpet-shells.

'But who would pity the sorrows o' the poor fat boy? No heye was bedewed with tears to see 'im rolled across the stage as the livin' football, carried in a net as a string o' honions, trussed an' carried in a tray with carrots an' turmots on a baker's 'ead to represent "ye first-prize Christmas goose." An' no one wept w'en 'e was placed on the table to be carved by Prince de Gourmand—no, not w'en 'e swore 'e was old an' tough, an' then threw 'im at the 'ead o' the pantaloon. I've been a roast suckin'-pig with brown gravy, I've been a turkey with sassingers, I've been a pigeon-pie with my 'ead an' my toes a-stickin' through the crust, an' I've figured as cold side-dish at the board o' the King o' the Cannibul-high-lows. An' against these indignities my proud soul 'as burned within me, an' I kept silence honly because somefin allers told me my day would one day come. An' I see it now a-comin'. I see a glorious vista openin' up before my mental heyes o' triumph hafter triumph as Hengland's greatest tragedian.

'An', Miss Lotty,' he said, coming down to the terrestrial, 'if ye goes to Lunnon, who knows but what Chops junior will follow ye, an' in the fullness o' time strut the stage as a star o' the fust magnitude?'

'Don't you think, Chops, it is time we went to camp to dinner now?'

Next day—because it was after the 'fast,' and everybody in the parish had been to church—was a great one in the camp of the Queerest Show on Earth. Bruin danced his very drollest, the Skeleton performed the most wonderful tricks. The dreaded dooroocoolie, it was said, had got loose; there was the most fearsome roaring, and the struggle in surrounding it once more with its clanking chains was more dreadful than the battle of St George and the ten-clawed Dragon. But the performances of Lotty Lee were encored till the poor child was well-nigh tired to death. Then the whole strength of the band discoursed the sweetest selection while the limelights were turned on the merman's tank.