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CHAPTER XLIII.

A Friend in Need.

At last came the election day; there was no lack of work for Jerry and me. First, came a stout puffy gentleman with a carpet bag; he wanted to go to the Bishopsgate Station: then we were called by a party who wished to be taken to the Regent's Park; and next we were wanted in a side street where a timid anxious old lady was waiting to be taken to the Bank: there we had to stop to take her back again, and just as we had set her down, a red-faced gentleman with a handful of papers, came running up out of breath, and before Jerry could get down, he had opened the door, popped himself in, and called out "Bow Street Police Station, quick!" so, off we went with him, and when, after another turn or two we came back, there was no other cab on the stand. Jerry put on my nose-bag, for as he said, "We must eat when we can on such days as these; so munch away, Jack, and make the best of your time, old boy."

I found I had a good feed of crushed oats wetted up with a little bran; this would be a treat any day, but very refreshing then. Jerry was so thoughtful