as old gentlemen like you were left at large. If you annoy me any further, I shall have no other course left than to give you in charge to this policeman." And Percie pointed to a blue-coated official who had strolled (by accident) to the spot.
"It's all stuff and nonsense!" cried the Old Boy, keeping a tight hold of his son's arm: "I 'm not going to be cheated out of my own eyesight in this way, and told to my face that I 'm a madman, and not the father of my own son—a son who deceives me, and imposes upon me with his sham sickness and his doctors' bills! But I 'm not the man to be tricked in this way; so, come along with me, Sir! I insist upon it! and you know very well that I keep my word, and am not to be trifled with."
"Vot a huncompromising old trump!" observed one of the Chorus.
"Since you compel me to adopt so disagreeable an expedient, I have no other alternative than to give you in charge: "and Mr. Percival Wylde beckoned to the blue-coated official.
"Hook it, old 'un!" cried a kindly-disposed small boy; "hook it! the Peeler 's a-coming!"
"Come, Sir!" said the Peeler: "I think you 'd best not trouble this gent, but move on: becos, if so be as he hinsists upon it, in course it 'll be my dooty to take you in charge."
"But," expostulated Mr. Wylde, "he 's my own son—who ought to be at Oxford, ill in bed—my own son!"
"Ah, Sir!" said the philosophic Peeler, "you see, here is hastonishing likenesses to be met with in the world. Sometimes it takes a wise child to know its own
