Cashel Byron's Profession

Alice looked, but could see neither Lord Worthington nor the cause

of a subtle but perceptible change in Lydia, who said, quickly, "He is probably coming to our train. Come to the waiting-room."

She walked swiftly along the platform as she spoke. Alice hurried after

her; and they had but just got into the room, the door of which was

close to the staircase which gave access to the platform, when a

coarse din of men's voices showed that a noisy party were ascending

the steps. Presently a man emerged reeling, and at once began to

execute a drunken dance, and to sing as well as his condition and

musical faculty allowed. Lydia stood near the window of the room and

watched in silence. Alice, following her example, recognized the

drunken dancer as Mellish. He was followed by three men gayly

attired and highly elated, but comparatively sober. After them came

Cashel Byron, showily dressed in a velveteen coat, and

tightly-fitting fawn-colored pantaloons that displayed the muscles

of his legs. He also seemed quite sober; but he was dishevelled, and

his left eye blinked frequently, the adjacent brow and cheek being

much yellower than his natural complexion, which appeared to

advantage on the right side of his face. Walking steadily to

Mellish, who was now asking each of the bystanders in turn to come

and drink at his expense, he seized him by the collar and sternly

bade him cease making a fool of himself. Mellish tried to embrace

him.

"My own boy," he exclaimed, affectionately. "He's my little

nonpareil. Cashel Byron again' the world at catch weight. Bob

Mellish's money--"

"You sot," said Cashel, rolling him about until he was giddy as well

as drunk, and then forcing him to sit down on a bench; "one would

think you never saw a mill or won a bet in your life before."

"Steady, Byron," said one of the others. "Here's his lordship." Lord

Worthington was coming up the stairs, apparently the most excited of

the party.

"Fine man!" he cried, patting Cashel on the shoulder. "Splendid man!

You have won a monkey for me to-day; and you shall have your share

of it, old boy."

"I trained him," said Mellish, staggering forward again. "I trained

him. You know me, my lord. You know Bob Mellish. A word with your

lordship in c-confidence. You ask who knows how to make the beef go

and the muscle come. You ask--I ask your lordship's pard'n. What'll

your lordship take?"

"Take care, for Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Lord Worthington,

clutching at him as he reeled backward towards the line. "Don't you

see the train?"