'Quick's the word, I suppose.'
'Lord love you! Quick! Why, a fellow must shave himself before he goes to bed if he wants to be up in time these days.'
'I suppose so.'
'Lord love you! why there was old Sam Weazle; never caught napping yet—why at Truro, last Monday, he bought up to 450 New Friendships, and before he was a-bed they weren't worth, not this bottle of brandy. Well, old Sam was just bit by those Cambourne lads.'
'And how did that happen?'
'Why, the New Friendships certainly was very good while they lasted; just for three months they was the thing certainly. Why, it came up, sir, as if there weren't no end of it, and just as clean as that half-crown—but I know'd there was an end coming.'
'Water, I suppose,' said Undy, sipping his toddy.
'Them clean takes, Mr. Scott, they never lasts. There was water, but that weren't the worst. Old Weazle knew of that; he calculated he'd back the metal agin the water, and so he bought all up he could lay his finger on. But the stuff was run out. Them Cambourne boys—what did they do? Why, they let the water in on purpose. By Monday night old Weazle knew it all, and then you may say it was as good as a play.'
'And how did you do in the matter?'
'Oh, I sold. I did very well—bought at £7 2s. 3d. and sold at £6 19s. 10 1/2d., and got my seven per cent, for the four months. But, Lord love you, them clean takes never lasts. I worn't going to hang on. Here's your health, Mr. Scott. Yours, Mr.—-, I didn't just catch the gen'leman's name;' and without waiting for further information on the point, he finished his brandy-and-water.