"Yaw; after dese gentlemans shall eat der suppers, den somesing will be prepared for you."
"Sair!" said the old Frenchman, firing up; "I vill not vait for ze shentilmen; I vant my suppair now, directly—right away; I not vait for nobody, sair!"
"If you no like 'em, den you go off, out mine house," answered the old sour krout, "you old barber!"
"Bar-bair!" gasped the old Frenchman, in suppressed rage. "Sair, I vill go no where, I vill stay here so long, by gar, as—as—as I please, sair!"
"Are you aware, sir," interposed the legal gentleman, "that you are rendering gross and offensive, malicious and libellous, scandalous and burglarious language to this gentleman, in his own domicile, with malice prepense and aforethought, and a ——"
"Pooh! pooh! pooh! for you, sair!" testily replied the Frenchman.
"Pooh? To me, sir? Me, sir?" bullyingly echoed Blackstone.
"Yes, sair—pooh—pooh! von geese, sair!"
It were vain to try to depict the rage of wounded pride, the insolence of a travelling barber had stirred up in the very face of the man of law, logic, and legal lore. He swelled up, blowed and strutted about like a miffed gobbler in a barn yard! He tried to cork down his rage, but it bursted forth—
"You—you—you infernal old frog-eating, soap and lather, you—you—you smoke-dried, one-eyed,[B] poor old wretch, you, if it wasn't for pity's sake, I'd have you taken up and put in the county jail, for vagrancy, I would, you poverty-stricken old rascal!"