Farmer Bluff nodded.
"Ah! Young master," said he; "you didn't know what a plaguesome thing it was, once it got hold of your system; did you now? It couldn't be satisfied with getting me off my legs, but it must disable my knife-hand. It'll have the fork one next, I'll be bound; and then there 'll be a pair of 'em. A quadruped of gout!"
He looked rather proud over this joke. It wasn't many he made when he had gout.
But Hal stood silent.
"I'm disappointed," said he. "I expected to find you better; and instead of that, you're worse." And he went and sat down on a chair opposite—the same one he had occupied on his first visit—looking perplexed and grieved. Presently he said,—"It's that mug, Mr. Bluff. I'm sure of that. Have you thought about it any more?"
"Why, no," returned the bailiff; "not much. I can't say I have. I've thought more about the goose, a long chalk."
"Yes; that was a pity," said Hal sympathetically. "I was very sorry for the poor thing."
"Two broods lost in one year," said Farmer Bluff, getting on his moody expression again. "More than a man like me can afford to lose. Now, if I'd been about—"
"There you are again," put in Hal. "If you will have gout—"
"It's all those men," continued the old fellow wrathfully. "They're so—" Farmer Bluff pulled up suddenly, before he added "careless." He was going to throw in one of his swearing expressions, to give weight to the word; but he fortunately recollected Hal in time, and checked himself.