The man who had met them on the night of their arrival came crawling up at this juncture, and looked in at the door.
‘Well, sir,’ said Chollop. ‘How do you git along?’
He had considerable difficulty in getting along at all, and said as much in reply.
‘Mr Co. And me, sir,’ observed Chollop, ‘are disputating a piece. He ought to be slicked up pretty smart to disputate between the Old World and the New, I do expect?’
‘Well!’ returned the miserable shadow. ‘So he had.’
‘I was merely observing, sir,’ said Mark, addressing this new visitor, ‘that I looked upon the city in which we have the honour to live, as being swampy. What’s your sentiments?’
‘I opinionate it’s moist perhaps, at certain times,’ returned the man.
‘But not as moist as England, sir?’ cried Chollop, with a fierce expression in his face.
‘Oh! Not as moist as England; let alone its Institutions,’ said the man.
‘I should hope there ain’t a swamp in all Americay, as don’t whip that small island into mush and molasses,’ observed Chollop, decisively. ‘You bought slick, straight, and right away, of Scadder, sir?’ to Mark.