"You're a chaffin of me, I know," said Potts.
"Come, come, Jim, don't make a fool of me," said Thomas.
"I wish I had known you were bringing me here. Come along. I won't stand it."
But Jim was leaning over the counter, speaking in a whisper to the down-bent landlord.
"You don't mean it?" said the latter.
"Ask the mis'ess, then," said Jim.
"You don't mean it!" repeated the landlord, in a husky voice, and with increase of energy. Then looking toward Thomas, "What will he take?" and with the words turned his back upon Jim, and his face toward a shelf on which stood his choicest bottles between two cask-like protuberances. He got down one of brandy, but Thomas, who was vexed at being brought there as if he wanted some acknowledgment of the good deed he had been fortunate enough to perform, refused to take anything.
"What will you take then?" said the man, whose whole stock of ideas seemed to turn upon taking.
But at the moment a woman entered from behind the shop.
"There, mis'ess," said her husband, "can you tell who that gentleman is?"