The difficulty had not occurred to me; though I had had my apprehensions too, when I went in, of hearing the old tune. On its being mentioned, I recognised it, however, and said as much.
“Yes, yes, you understand,” said Mr. Omer, nodding his head. “We durstn’t do it. Bless you, it would be a shock that the generality of parties mightn’t recover, to say ‘Omer and Jorams’s compliments, and how do you find yourself this morning’—or this afternoon—as it may be.”
Mr. Omer and I nodded at each other, and Mr. Omer recruited his wind by the aid of his pipe.
“It’s one of the things that cut the trade off from attentions they could often wish to show,” said Mr. Omer. “Take myself. If I have known Barkis a year, to move to as he went by, I have known him forty year. But I can’t go and say ‘how is he?’”
I felt it was rather hard on Mr. Omer, and I told him so.
“I’m not more self-interested, I hope, than another man,” said Mr. Omer. “Look at me! My wind may fail me at any moment, and it ain’t likely that, to my own knowledge, I’d be self-interested under such circumstances. I say it ain’t likely, in a man who knows his wind will go, when it does go, as if a pair of bellows was cut open; and that man a grandfather,” said Mr. Omer.
I said, “Not at all.”
“It ain’t that I complain of my line of business,” said Mr. Omer. “It ain’t that. Some good and some bad goes, no doubt, to all callings. What I wish, is, that parties were brought up stronger-minded.”
Mr. Omer, with a very complacent and amiable face, took several puffs in silence; and then said, resuming his first point.
“Accordingly we’re obleeged, in ascertaining how Barkis goes on, to limit ourselves to Em’ly. She knows what our real objects are, and she don’t have any more alarms or suspicions about us, than if we was so many lambs. Minnie and Joram have just stepped down to the house, in fact (she’s there, after hours, helping her aunt a bit), to ask her how he is to-