He had been dining quite late—yes, and well. When the party broke up Tree hailed a cab and jumped in with the one word, "Home," addressed toward the cabby. That artful individual saw his chance for a fat fare and drove off without inquiring for more explicit instructions. After he had let his horse wander about London all night—with Tree in peaceful slumber inside—the cabby peeked in through his little aperture in the roof and awoke the sleeping player.
"Where shall I drive you to now, sir?" queried the cabby.
"Home, I say," replied Tree angrily.
"I beg pardon, guv'nor," replied the cabby, "but where is your 'ome, sir?"
Tree opened one eye long enough to direct a look full of reproach at the cabby.
"You don't imagine I'm going to tell every common cabman my private address, do you?"