It might be prejudice, or want of penetration on our part, but we
thought he looked as high-bred as any of them. They all seemed to know each
other, and the nodding, and winking, and jerking, began as soon as we got
across. Puff kindly acted as cicerone, or we should not have been aware of
the consequence we were encountering.
'Well, Jemmy!' exclaimed a debauched-looking youth to our friend, 'how are
you?--breakfasted yet?'
'Going to,' replied Puffington, whom they called Jemmy because his name was
Tommy.
'That,' said he, in an undertone, 'is a _capital_ fellow--Lord Legbail,
eldest son of the Marquis of Loosefish--will be Lord Loosefish. We were at
the Finish together till six this morning--such fun!--bonneted a Charley,
stole his rattle, and broke an early breakfast-man's stall all to shivers.'
Just then up came a broad-brimmed hat, above a confused mass of greatcoats
and coloured shawls.
'Holloa, Jack!' exclaimed Mr. Puffington, laying hold of a mother-of-pearl
button nearly as large as a tart-plate, 'not off yet?'
'Just going,' replied Jack, with a touch of his hat, as he rolled on,
adding, 'want aught down the road?'
'What coachman is that?' asked we.
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