“Nine oils, Merrylegs, missing tips, garters, banners, and Ponging, eh!” ejaculated Bounderby, with his laugh of laughs. “Queer sort of company, too, for a man who has raised himself!”

“Lower yourself, then,” retorted Cupid. “Oh Lord! if you’ve raised yourself so high as all that comes to, let yourself down a bit.”

“This is a very obtrusive lad!” said Mr. Gradgrind, turning, and knitting his brows on him.

“We’d have had a young gentleman to meet you, if we had known you were coming,” retorted Master Kidderminster, nothing abashed. “It’s a pity you don’t have a bespeak, being so particular. You’re on the Tight-Jeff, ain’t you?”

“What does this unmannerly boy mean,” asked Mr. Gradgrind, eyeing him in a sort of desperation, “by Tight-Jeff?”