Old Morton (to JACKSON). How many letters of information or caution have we received?
Jackson. This makes seven hundred and eighty-one, sir.
Old Morton. How, sir! (Quickly.) There were but seven hundred and seventy-nine last night.
Jackson. Beg pardon, sir! The gentleman who carried Mr. Alexander's valise from the boat was the seven hundred and eightieth.
Old Morton. Explain yourself, sir.
Jackson. He imparted to me, while receiving his stipend, the fact that he did not believe young Mr. Alexander was your son. An hour later, sir, he also imparted to me confidentially that he believed you were his father, and requested the loan of five dollars, to be repaid by you, to enable him to purchase a clean shirt, and appear before you in respectable condition. He waited for you an hour, and expressed some indignation that he had not an equal show with others to throw himself into your arms.
Don Jose (rising, aside, and uplifting his hands). Carramba! These Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud.) Enough, Don Alexandro! Then you think this letter is only worth—
Old Morton. One moment. I can perhaps tell you exactly its market value. (To JACKSON.) Go on, sir.
Jackson. At half-past ten, sir, then being slightly under the influence of liquor, he accepted the price of a deck passage to Stockton.
Old Morton. How much was that, sir?