"Thirty francs! when copper is twenty sous a pound? Thirty francs!"
"Say thirty-five francs, and there's an end of the matter, or go to the devil with you! you, and your copper, and your dog, and your cart."
"But, Father Micou, you are really chiselling me down; that's not the right thing by no means."
"If you'll tell me how you came by your copper, I'll give you fifteen sous a pound for it."
"That's the old strain. You are all alike, a regular lot of cheats. How can you bear to 'do' your friends in this way? But that's not all; if I swap with you for some things, you ought to give me good measure."
"To a hair's turn. What do you want? Chains and hooks for your punts?"
"No, I want four or five sheets of stout iron, as if to line shutters with."
"I've just the thing, a quarter of an inch thick; a pistol-ball wouldn't go through it."
"Just what I want."
"What size?"