“Of course not, Mr. Weller,” said the gentleman in blue, “one can’t be troubled, you know; and we know, Mr. Weller⁠—we, who are men of the world⁠—that a good uniform must work its way with the women, sooner or later. In fact, that’s the only thing, between you and me, that makes the service worth entering into.”

“Just so,” said Sam. “That’s it, o’ course.”

When this confidential dialogue had gone thus far, glasses were placed round, and every gentleman ordered what he liked best, before the public-house shut up. The gentleman in blue, and the man in orange, who were the chief exquisites of the party, ordered “cold shrub and water,” but with the others, gin-and-water, sweet, appeared to be the favourite beverage. Sam called the greengrocer a “desp’rate willin,” and ordered a large bowl of punch⁠—two circumstances which seemed to raise him very much in the opinion of the selections.