CHAPTER XXII.
YOUNG GILLY FLOWERS "Drum," said Pet, in his free and easy style, about ten days after that escape, to a highly respected individual, Mr.Welldrum, the butler--"Drum, you have heard perhaps about my being poorly." "Ay, that I have, and too much of it," replied the portly butler, busy in his office with inferior work, which he never should have had to do, if rightly estimated.

"What you wants, Master Lancelot, is a little more of this here sort of thing--sleeves up--elbow grease--scrub away at hold ancient plate, and be blowed up if you puts a scratch on it; and the more you sweats, the less thanks you gets." "Drum, when you come to be my butler, you shall have all the keys allowed you, and walk about with them on a great gold ring, with a gold chain down to your breeches pocket.

You shall dine when you like, and have it cooked on purpose, and order it directly after breakfast; and you shall have the very best hot-water plates; because you hate grease, don't you, Drum ?" "That I do; especial from young chaps as wants to get something out of me." "I am always as good as my word; come, now." "That you are, Sir; and nothing very grand to say, considering the hepithets you applies to me sometimes.

But you han't insulted me for three days now; and that proves to my mind that you can't be quite right." "But you would like to see me better.

I am sure you would.