"Why, you were against it when Mr. Fanshawe proposed it. How is it that you have changed your mind, Sherry?"
"Well, sir, 'tis this way, if I med be so bold. Your money be gwine fast, and 'twould never do to begin a more humble way o' liven here. Nay, what I say is, if you must pare and scrape, go where you bean't so well known, and then nobody'll think the worse on 'ee for't."
"Hang me, who talked of paring and scraping, Sherry?" cried Harry impatiently.
"I axe your pardon, sir," said Sherebiah earnestly, "but I were not born yesterday. Here are we, four weeks in Lun'on, and you know yourself how many golden guineas you brought wi' 'ee, and how many be left. Sure I bean't a great eater myself, but even my little small morsel ha' got to be paid for. Master Harry, 'twill be best for 'ee to do as I say. Ay, an' if I knowed 'ee wouldn't up and rate me, I'd say another thing, I would so."
"Well—what's that?"
"Why, I'd say, hand over your purse to me. Nay, sir, don't be angry; ye're not wasteful, no; but if we go to another house, I can save 'ee many a penny here and penny there in ways you wouldn't so much as dream on. I know Lun'on folk, you see; ay, I know 'em well."
In the upshot, Sherebiah had his way on both points. The reason for his change of front was that on the previous afternoon he had seen the squire's man Jock hanging about the inn, and had found out subsequently that Captain Aglionby had returned to his old quarters at the White Hart. It was just as well, he thought, to take one step further from danger by changing their lodging. When this was done, and Sherebiah kept the purse, Harry was amazed to find how much further his money went. It would not have surprised him if the weekly bill had been reduced by a small amount; but when he discovered that, though he fared quite as well, the expenses were not half what they had been, he began to think that Sherebiah possessed some talisman against the cupidity of London innkeepers. He found, too, that he was left much more to himself, and wondered why, with the change of lodging, Sherebiah's watchfulness appeared to have diminished.
He was walking with Godfrey Fanshawe one cold January afternoon by Pye Corner, when he was attracted by a crowd of people gazing at a street show that, to judge by their laughter and applause, was exceedingly entertaining. Elbowing their way through the stragglers on the outskirts, the two young fellows arrived at a position whence they could see what was going on. A group of posture-masters were performing, and at the moment of Harry's arrival, a short thickset man, dressed in fantastic costume, and with painted face, was dancing on his knees with his toes in his hands, keeping time to the music of a flute and a violin. The tune was a merry one, and the movements of the acrobat irresistibly funny, so that every member of the crowd roared with laughter.
"Adzooks!" exclaimed Fanshawe, "the fellow's face is the funniest part of the performance. Look'ee, Harry, 'tis as sober as a judge's on assize; one would think 'twere a hanging matter."
Harry had been so tickled by this odd mode of dancing that he had not noticed the performer's features. He glanced at them now, started with a sudden gasp, and cried: