no scholar. "I won't be led about like a monkey on a chain, either. I know best how to amuse myself, and I tell you what—I'm going back for another ride on that tricycle. You'd better come too, Wat. The panorama doesn't really begin till half-past three. I saw it up on the board outside."

"But I've only got three half-pence left," said Walter, "so I can't ride any more."

"Oh, I'll lend you the money. I've got heaps."

"But could you find your way back, Chris? This is such a thundering big place," urged Walter doubtfully.

"Yes, you idiot, of course I can. But don't come if you're afraid."

Chris knew very well that such a suggestion would break down Walter's hesitation at once; and so it did. He followed his friend, and soon forgot all about the panorama in his delight at having improved so much since the morning in the management of his tricycle.

Suddenly a clock struck. One, two, three, FOUR.

"Chris, Chris, did you hear? It's four o'clock!" he cried.

"Well, what of that?" was the cool rejoinder.

"Get off at once, Chris. The panorama must be half over. Bother it all! and I did so want to see it."

Chris proceeded slowly and leisurely back to the starting-point, and got off his tricycle.

"How much?" he asked the man in charge.

"One and sixpence each, please."

"What a plague you are, Wat, to have come without any money," said Chris, as he paid the three shillings. "I didn't come to spend all my cash on you."

"How do you come to have so much?" inquired Walter.

"Why, my jolly old brick of an uncle gave me five shillings when he heard I was coming here."

"I wish he was my uncle," sighed Walter, whose parents were very poor. "But I say, Chris, is this the way to the panorama?"

"No, but I'm thirsty. I'm going into the palace to get a glass of beer. You can go on to the panorama if you're so anxious about it."

But Walter was far too much afraid of getting lost among the crowds of people in the "thundering big garden" to part from his companion. He had never been more than ten miles from his native village until to-day, and he felt quite bewildered at all the strange sights and sounds.

He followed Chris, who proceeded to a refreshment counter, and asked for beer.

"We don't sell wine or beer, or anything of the sort, sir," was the answer. "It's against the rules of the palace, and we've no licence."

Nothing made Chris so savage as to be thwarted in anything he wanted to do.

"Then it's a stupid place, and it ought to be ashamed of itself," he said angrily; "but if I can't get it here, I'll go where I can."

He turned on his heel and walked quickly away, followed by the much-vexed Walter.

In vain did he ask Chris where he was going, and what he meant to do—not a word could he extract. The other lad stalked on, looking every now and then at the printed directions on the walls, telling whither each turning led.

He reached a sort of entrance-place at last, where there were the same kind of turnstiles as those through which Mr. Richardson had brought his party in the morning.

"Way out" was written above one. Without a word to his companion, Chris went through it.

"But, Chris, that takes us outside. What are you doing?" cried Walter.

"I know what I'm about," answered the other. "Are you coming or not I? I can't wait all day. You'll never find your way back to the others alone. You'd a deal better stick to me that knows the way."

Walter looked round despairingly.

"What shall I do?" he said to himself. "I wish I hadn't come with Chris. He's so cross and disagreeable, it's no fun to be with him; but I could no more find my way back through all those twists and turns than fly. I suppose I must keep with him now," and he went through the turnstile and caught up his friend, who had grown tired of waiting and had gone on some way.

"Oh, you've come, have you?" said he, as Walter came running up. "I thought you liked best wandering about all proper and lonely inside that fine place you seem so fond of."

Walter made no reply, but walked by the side of his companion, who marched along as if he knew very well what he wanted, and meant to have it.

At length they came to a street corner, where they saw written up, "Crystal Palace Arms."

"Now, here's just the place for me," cried Chris, pushing the door open and going in.

Walter, though he felt more uncomfortable than ever, saw no choice but to follow.

"Me and my pal wants a glass of beer," said Chris loudly, throwing down a sixpence with the air of one who had plenty more.

"No, I don't want any, thanks, Chris," interrupted Walter hastily.

"Then you can go without," answered Christopher, deeply offended. "I'm not going to offer it to you again, nor anything else either, you great hulking killjoy."

He drank off his own beer, and then had some more, and some more again.

Walter began to feel really frightened now, for Chris was one of those childish people who, having once begun drinking, cannot stop themselves from taking more than is good for them.

But on this occasion, to his comrade's surprise, he did stop before long.

"It's no good for me to try and persuade him," thought Walter; "it 'ud only make him go the other way. I wish I hadn't gone with him; it's quite spoilt my day. I didn't get a holiday and come all this way from home just to spend the afternoon in a stuffy public-house, nor on the pavement outside, neither. It's six o'clock—there's the clock striking.—Chris, we shall only just get back to the palace in time to meet Mr. Richardson," he said aloud, beginning to walk very fast. "You know he's got all the tickets—we can't go without him."

"All right—plenty o' time," rejoined Chris, speaking rather thickly, and lagging behind in a most irritating way.

Walter thought he never should get him to the gate, but they reached it at last. He thought it was the same man and the same entrance they had come in by before, but really both were quite different. The gatekeeper said at once,—

"Where's your money? But you can only stay five minutes."

"Oh, we paid this morning," replied Chris. "Don't you remember a big party with red rosettes on?"

"You can't come in again, anyhow, without paying. And you haven't no red rosettes."

"Yes, I have; it's in my pocket," said Walter, beginning to feel for it. But, alas! it was gone—drawn out, most likely, with his handkerchief.

"Why did you make me take it off?" he said crossly. "Get out yours, Chris, and show it."

"Mine? Threw the old thing away hours ago. Not such a fool as I look," answered Chris rudely.—"I'm going through here, so you can just stop your row," he continued insolently to the gatekeeper, with a vague idea of obtaining admiration from the crowds now coming out through the turnstile.

The gatekeeper looked at him contemptuously for a moment, and then gave a little whistle. Instantly two very tall policemen appeared.

"Just turn these two chaps out, will you?" said he. "They're regular holiday-keepers, they are. Been at the Palace Arms, I should say, most of the day."

"Now then, you clear out," said the policemen, with voice and manner that even Chris dared not disregard.

"Please, we want to go to