Bill (snatching the sovereign and putting it in his mouth). Now then, sir!—What's the young woman like?
Wat. Rather tall—thin—dark hair—large dark eyes—and long white hands. Her name's Matilda—Mattie Pearson—the girl you were talking to, I tell you, on this very spot an hour or two ago.
Bill (dropping the sovereign, and stooping to find it). Golly! it is our Mattie!
Wat. Shall you know her again?
Bill. Any boy as wasn't a hass would know his own grandmother by them spots. Besides, I remember sich a gal addressin' of me this mornin'. If you say her it was, I'll detect her for ye.
Wat. There's a good boy! What's your name?
Bill. Timothy, sir.
Wat. What else?
Bill. Never had no other—leastways as I knows on.
Wat. Well, Timothy—there's the other sov.—and it's yours the moment you take me to her. Look at it.