Grim, almost blubbing with anger and shame, poured out his tale, and Acton
listened with an amused smile. "Sheer funk, Grim. Well, go on, and tell
'em their Cherry has rotted, but that I'll come and tell 'em a little tale
instead."

Grim would have embraced Acton if he'd been a little taller, but he
gurgled, "Acton, you _are_ a brick," and darted on to the stage.

He was received with deafening cheers, and shrieks of "No waits!"
"Manager!" "Don't hurry, Grim!" "We'll send out for supper!" "We want
Cherry!" "Go off," etc.

When Grim could get a word in he panted, "Gentlemen, I am sorry to say
B.A.M. Cherry is indisposed and cannot favour you with the epilogue."

"Funked it!" roared all the delighted juniors.

"He says he is unwell," said Grim, anger getting the better of him, "but
he'll be a jolly sight worse in the morning."

There was a hurricane of thunderous cheers at this sally, but Grim managed
to shout above the laughing, "I have great pleasure in announcing that
John Acton, Esq., will take Fruity's--I mean Cherry's--place and tell you
a little tale; even Corker fags will understand it," added Grim,
viciously.

Acton came on and received his hearty welcome with easy good nature. He
plunged right into his contribution: "A London cabby's account of his
different fares"--from the double-superfine gilt-edged individual to the
fat old dowager who _will_ have the parrot inside with her. Acton