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'Oh!' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'that is tip, is it?' 'In a general way that's missing his tip,' Mr. E. W. B. Childers answered. 'Nine oils, Merrylegs, missing tips, garters, banners, and Ponging, eh!' ejaculated Bounderby, with his laugh of laughs. 'Queer sort of company, too, for a man who has raised himself!' 'Lower yourself, then,' retorted Cupid. 'Oh Lord! if you've raised yourself so high as all that comes to, let yourself down a bit.' 'This is a very obtrusive lad!' said Mr. Gradgrind, turning, and knitting his brows on him. 'We'd have had a young gentleman to meet you, if we had known you were coming,' retorted Master Kidderminster, nothing abashed. 'It's a pity you don't have a bespeak, being so particular. You're on the Tight-Jeff, ain't you?' 'What does this unmannerly boy mean,' asked Mr. Gradgrind, eyeing him in a sort of desperation, 'by Tight-Jeff?' 'There! Get out, get out!' said Mr. Childers, thrusting his young friend from the room, rather in the prairie manner. 'Tight-Jeff or Slack-Jeff, it don't much signify: it's only tight-rope and slack- rope. You were going to give me a message for Jupe?' 'Yes, I was.' 'Then,' continued Mr. Childers, quickly, 'my opinion is, he will never receive it. Do you know much of him?' 'I never saw the man in my life.' 'I doubt if you ever will see him now. It's pretty plain to me, he's off.' 'Do you mean that he has deserted his daughter?' 'Ay! I mean,' said Mr. Childers, with a nod, 'that he has cut. He was goosed last night, he was goosed the night before last, he was goosed to-day. He has lately got in the way of being always goosed, and he can't stand it.'