“It is, indeed,” returned Peace; “but it is a lesson to both of us—a lesson I hope you will profit by.”
“Oh, there aint no call for you to preach, or to try and make me better nor I am. But I am sorry for the old un—he was always square enough with me—always.”
“I tell you, Cooney, sadly and seriously, that if you don’t intend to profit by the warning already given to both of us, I shall; and I advise you to follow my example.”
“Oh, I’ll profit by it one way or t’other; I sed as how it ed come to this sooner or later, he was so rash, so headstrong. Didn’t I always say that I liked to do business in a quiet sort o’ way? Answer me that.”
“I admit you did,” said Peace in a conciliatory tone of voice. “But now we must part—I durst not stay any longer,” he added rising from his seat.
“Are yer agoin’?”
“Yes, you don’t want anything more of me.”
“No, not a morsel. I’m thankful enough for what yer have given me—but I say, Charlie, you’re a knockin’ up a tidy business in the town, aint yer?”
“Oh no; but very middling at present. What are your movements?”
“I leave to-morrow morning—and so good-bye and good luck to yer.”