He had just finished his own and was about to suggest that it was a pity to waste the porter when Philpot unexpectedly reappeared.
'Hullo! What 'ave you done with 'im ?' inquired Crass.
'I think 'e'll be all right,' replied Philpot.

'He wouldn't let me go no further with 'im: said if I didn't go away, 'e'd go for me! But I believe 'e'll be all right.

I think the fall sobered 'im a bit.' 'Oh, 'e's all right,' said Crass offhandedly.

'There's nothing the matter with 'im.' Philpot now drank his porter, and bidding 'good night' to the Old Dear, the landlady and the Besotted Wretch, they all set out for home.

As they went along the dark and lonely thoroughfare that led over the hill to Windley, they heard from time to time the weird roaring of the wild animals in the menagerie that was encamped in the adjacent field.