On the fourteenth of May, the day previous to the opening of the house, Robinson was seated upstairs alone, still at work on some of his large posters. There was no sound to be heard but the hammers of the workmen below; and the smell of the magenta paint, as it dried, was strong in his nostrils. It was then that one of the workmen came up to him, saying that there was a gentleman below who wished to see him. At this period Robinson was anxious to be called on by commercial gentlemen, and at once sent down civil word, begging that the gentleman would walk up. With heavy step the gentleman did walk up, and William Brisket was shown into the room.
"Sir," said George Robinson as soon as he saw him, "I did not expect this honour from you." And then he bethought himself of his desire to tear out the monster's tongue, and began to consider whether he might do it now.
"I don't know much about honour," said Brisket; "but it seems to me an understandin's wanted 'twixt you and I."
"There can be none such," said Robinson.
"Oh, but there must."
"It is not within the compass of things. You, sir, cannot understand me;—your intellectual vision is too limited. And I,—I will not understand you."
"Won't you, by jingo! Then your vision shall be limited, as far as two uncommon black eyes can limit it. But come, Robinson, if you don't want to quarrel, I don't."
"As for quarrelling," said Robinson, "it is the work of children. Come, Brisket, will you jump with me into yonder river? The first that reaches the further side, let him have her!" And he pointed up Bishopsgate Street towards the Thames.
"Perhaps you can swim?" said Brisket.
"Not a stroke!" said Robinson.