218 ON SURREY HILLS. 



the estimation of his audience, for they roared and 

 thumped the tables like so many wild beasts at 

 play. 



Not a word was spoken among us, but one and all 

 we were quietly making up our minds no one should 

 be put into that horse-pond in a hurry. 



Once again the ruffian bellowed out "As to that 

 'ere head un as they call him, ef I gits hold on 

 his gal's hands, I'll crush un like apples in cider- 

 press. Cum on, lads, I be goin' tu start the job ; I 

 goes fust, you wait outside door, ye kin cum in 

 arterwards." 



Blundering footsteps approached our door through 

 the inn passage ; it was opened, and in walked the 

 impersonification of a ruffianly lout. As he glared 

 round, no one spoke or moved. This disconcerted 

 him, and he threw up his cap, yelling, " There's my 

 hat fur the best man, or all on ye." 



Very quietly the " head un," with the " gal's hands," 

 rose from his chair, saying, " You have made a mis- 

 take, my friend ; this is a private room, and you had 

 better leave it, and shut the door after you, or it will 

 be the worse for you. Now, go ! " 



For a moment the brute was dumfoundered ; then, 



