That boy'll go straight to the devil--I know he will." All this time Charlie, to his great discomfiture, was being shaken and turned about by Robberts in the most unceremonious manner.

Kinch, with his usual audacity, was meanwhile industriously engaged in tracing on Robbert's coat a similar picture to that he had so skilfully drawn on Charlie's, to the great delight of a crowd of boys who stood admiring spectators of his artistic performances.

The coachman, however, observing this operation, brought it to a rather hasty conclusion by a well directed cut of the whip across the fingers of the daring young artist.

This so enraged Kinch, that in default of any other missile, he threw his lime-covered cap at the head of the coachman; but, unfortunately for himself, the only result of his exertions was the lodgment of his cap in the topmost bough of a neighbouring tree, from whence it was rescued with great difficulty.
"What _shall_ we do with him ?" asked Mrs.Thomas, in a despairing tone, as she looked at Charlie.
"Put him with the coachman," suggested Mrs.Morton.
"He can't sit there, the horses are so restive, and the seat is only constructed for one, and he would be in the coachman's way.

I suppose he must find room on behind with Robberts." "I won't ride on the old carriage," cried Charlie, nerved by despair; "I won't stay here nohow.