young jerry, walking with the stool under his arm at his father's side along sunny and crowded fleet-street, was a very different young jerry from him of the previous night, running home through darkness and solitude from his grim pursuer. his cunning was fresh with the day, and his qualms were gone with the night in which particulars it is not improbable that he had compeers in fleet-street and the city of london, that fine morning.