“And by making believe you don’t want things,” said Mary.
“Ah!” exclaimed Narcisse, “I nevvah kin do that!” and Richling gave a laugh that was not without sympathy. “But I muz tell you, Mistoo Itchlin, I am aztonizh at you.”
An instant apprehension seized John and Mary. They knew their ill-concealed amusement would betray them, and now they were to be called to account. But no.
“Yesseh,” continued Narcisse, “you ’ave the gweatez o’casion to be the subjec’ of congwatulation, Mistoo Itchlin, to ’ave the poweh to accum’late money in those hawd time’ like the pwesen’!”
The Richlings cried out with relief and amused surprise.
“Why, you couldn’t make a greater mistake!”
“Mistaken! Hah! W’en I ged that memo’andum f’om Dr. Seveeah to paz that fifty dollah at yo’ cwedit, it burz f’om me, that egsclamation! ’Acchilly! ’ow that Mistoo Itchlin deserve the ’espect to save a lill quantity of money like that!”
The laughter of John and Mary did not impede his rhapsody, nor their protestations shake his convictions.
“Why,” said Richling, lolling back, “the Doctor has simply omitted to have you make the entry of”—
But he had no right to interfere with the Doctor’s accounts. However, Narcisse was not listening.