The wine was swallowed, and Clinton, taking Arthur's hand in his, shook it heartily.
"Ah! my boy, you've proved yourself 'one of us' to-night; glad to claim you as a b-hoy. Whenever you're in want or trouble, signal the b-hoys, and you'll be helped out of it. It's a better society than any of the Odd Fellows or Free Masons can ever be, and costs you nothing besides. What say you now for a stroll?"
"Agreed! for my part, I am ready for anything."
"Then hurrah, boys!" cried Clinton, beginning to sing a lively air; and lighting their cigars, they passed out into the saloon.
"Put all this in my bill, Quibbles," said Clinton, as he passed that gentleman, on his way to the door.
"That'll do, sir—all right."
With noise and laughter, and rude jest, the drunken trio went down the street. It needed but a glance to show that the younger of the three, he with the bright complexion and jetty hair, was but a novice in dissipation, and more than one felt a glow of pity, as he jostled past them in the light of the bright windows of Royal-street. Alas! alas! Arthur; where was the ghost in your heart now? that haggard figure, pointing ever with its skinny finger backward!
They kept on until they reached St. Ann-street, into which they turned; as they did so, their attention was attracted by the appearance of a slight female figure, with a short cloak about her shoulders, and the hood drawn over her head. The moment she heard the unsteady steps behind her she hurried her pace, which was already rapid, and sped along with feet winged with fear.
"By Jove! that's a graceful little minx!" exclaimed Clinton.