“Hey? You’re not doing uncommonly well? So I heard in the City. Some one told me your house was quite shaky.”
“Who told you that?” cried Fred fiercely.
“Hey?”
“I say who told you that?” cried Fred, more loudly.
“I can’t hear a word you say, young man,” replied Hopper; “you must come round. This, is a bad room of yours for sound, Maximilian—I’d have it altered.”
There were several little encounters of this kind during the repast; for Hopper, as soon as he saw the object of his host, strove religiously to frustrate his efforts, and with such success that Max gave up in disgust, and tried another tack, after making up his mind to call on his brother and become reconciled. This he was the more eager for, since it was a fact that he had lost very heavily of late, and his house was tottering to its fall.
“Ah!” said Max at last, as the dinner progressed slowly, “it’s a pity, Hopper, that you have no money to invest.”
“Hey? Money to invest? No, thank you. But don’t talk shop, man. I wonder so good a creature thinks so much of money. But you keep a carriage?”
“Oh yes,” said Max, smiling good-humouredly at his wife, as if to say, “You see, he will have his joke!”
“And horses?”