“Then, of course,” said I, “Webber, you can’t think of going, in any case, on my account.”
“My very dear friend, I go entirely upon my own. I not only shall go, but I intend to have most particular notice and attention paid me. I shall be prime favorite with Sir George, kiss Lucy—”
“Come, come, this is too strong.”
“What do you bet I don’t? There, now, I’ll give you a pony apiece, I do. Do you say done?”
“That you kiss Miss Dashwood, and are not kicked down-stairs for your pains; are those the terms of the wager?” inquired Power.
“With all my heart. That I kiss Miss Dashwood, and am not kicked down-stairs for my pains.”
“Then, I say, done.”
“And with you, too, O’Malley?”
“I thank you,” said I, coldly; “I am not disposed to make such a return for Sir George Dashwood’s hospitality as to make an insult to his family the subject of a bet.”
“Why, man, what are you dreaming of? Miss Dashwood will not refuse my chaste salute. Come, Power, I’ll give you the other pony.”