"That's right, Cupid, son of Cytherea; all's common property amongst friends.

Seven shillings, I have 'em not.

'They now are five who once were seven;' but such as they are, we'll share.
'Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown.'" "Crowns bear no division, my uncle," said Gabriel, dryly; and he pocketed the five shillings.

Then, having first secured his escape by gaining the threshold, he suddenly seized one of the rickety chairs by its leg, and regardless of the gallantries due to the sex, sent it right against the model, who was shaking her fist at him.

A scream and a fall and a sharp twit from the cage, which was hurled nearly into the fireplace, told that the missive had taken effect.