Tom Barley burst out laughing. "Who has told you that cock-and-bull?" he asked. "I'd like to give him half to prove it. I'm thinking of buying Buckingham Palace, I am. I've got money enough to pay for it rolled up in bundles."
"Hold your tongue," said the miser, "and listen to me."
"Go ahead," said Tom Barley.
"When I first took you into my service," the miser commenced—
"At twopence a week," interposed Tom. "The Bank of England's breaking down with my savings."
"It was my intention to make a man of you," continued the miser; and again Tom Barley interrupted him.
"The Lord Almighty did that while you was thinking of it."
"But," proceeded the miser, "I soon found out that I had taken a hopeless case in hand; I soon discovered that a clodhopper you were and a clodhopper you would remain, till you took your place in the workhouse as a regular. Then I lost interest in you, and let you go your way."
"In a minute or two," said Tom Barley, "I've got a couple of words to say to you that I don't go out of this room without saying."
"I allowed you to remain on my estate, and gave you your meals, and paid you so much a week."