"You have guessed right so far: but who do you think that Quaker is?"
"There I'm at fault."
"Mr Cophagas."
At this intelligence Timothy gave a leap in the air, turned round on his heel, and tumbled on the grass in a fit of immoderate laughter.
"Cophagus!—a Quaker!" cried he at last. "Oh! I long to see him. Snuffle, snuffle—broad brims—wide skirts—and so on. Capital!"
"It is very true, Timothy, but you must not mock at the persuasion."
"I did not intend it, Japhet, but there is something to me so ridiculous in the idea. But," continued Timothy, "is it not still stranger, that, after having separated so many years, we should all meet again—and that I should find Mr Cophagus—an apothecary's shop—you dispensing medicines—and I—as I hope to be—carrying them about as I did before. Well, I will row in the same boat, and I will be a Quaker as well as you both."
"Well, we will now return, and I will take you to Mr Cophagus, who will, I am sure, be glad to see you."
"First, Japhet, let me have some Quaker's clothes—I should prefer it."
"You shall have a suit of mine, Timothy, since you wish it; but recollect it is not at all necessary, nor indeed will it be permitted that you enter into the sect without preparatory examination as to your fitness for admission."