The wrangle proceeded monotonously, each party repeating over and over again the phrases of his own argument. I was very glad that Jos did not know me to be a witness of the making of the bet; otherwise I should assuredly have been summoned to give judgment.
"Let's call it off, then," Charlie suggested at length. "That'll settle it. And it being twins—"
"Nay, thou old devil, I'll none call it off. Thou owes me half a quid, and I'll have it out of thee."
"Look ye here," Charlie said more softly. "I'll tell thee what'll settle it. Which on 'em come first, th' lad or th'wench?"
"Th' wench come first," Jos Myatt admitted, with resentful reluctance, dully aware that defeat was awaiting him.
"Well, then! Th' wench is thy eldest child. That's law, that is. And what was us betting about, Jos lad? Us was betting about thy eldest and no other. I'll admit as I laid it wasna' a lad, as thou sayst. And it wasna' a lad. First come is eldest, and us was betting about eldest."
Charlie stared at the father in triumph.
Jos Myatt pushed roughly past him in the narrow space behind the bar, and came into the parlour. Nodding to me curtly, he unlocked the bookcase and took two crown pieces from a leathern purse which lay next to the bag. Then he returned to the bar and banged the coins on the counter with fury.
"Take thy brass!" he shouted angrily. "Take thy brass! But thou'rt a damned shark, Charlie, and if anybody 'ud give me a plug o' bacca for doing it, I'd bash thy face in."
The other sniggered contentedly as he picked up his money.