"Well," said Mr. Bouncer, when he had quenched his thirst and ended his smoke, "I 'll get my usual hack at Tollitt's, and join you at Symonds's after lunch, and we 'll have a canter somewhere, and, perhaps, a decanter afterwards. There 's a fine old crusted joke for you! We can supply them to you at thirteen to the dozen; country orders executed with promptitude and despatch. Well, ta-ta, Giglamps! you 'll be on the look-out for me at the gateway in Holywell Street, won't you, my precious?"
So it was agreed upon. But, when Mr. Bouncer went to Tollitt's, he could not get a hack. For some reason, there was a great demand for them that day.
"It 's what we may call a haccident, Mr. Bouncer!" said the stable-man.
"A hack-sident, did you say? Why, you 're setting up quite for a wit, Joe! we must call you Joe Miller, if this sort of thing goes on. You 'll be saying next that, instead of the horses running, there 's a run upon the horses." The stable-man grinned. Mr. Bouncer was a favourite, and was generally good for a glass.
The little gentleman went on to Pigg's; but, every horse in those stables was engaged, except one that was being clipped. The operator had just finished one side of the animal, and was about to begin work on the other side, when Mr. Bouncer cried, "Hold hard, my man! I must have that horse."
"But, he's only half-clipped, sir!"
"Never mind! a sweater will do him good."
"But, he 'll look so queer!"
"Oh, never mind that. I 'll manage to present his broad-side view to the public, and they 'll never see that one side 's different from the other." So, despite further
