“I’m not Mr. Rives’s office-boy. I am a constable, and am here attending to my business. He told me he would be here by four o’clock, and he won’t come any quicker by my going after him.”
General B.—“Do you know who you are talking to?”
Constable Newton.—“I’m talking to General Baker, I believe.”
Gen. B.—“Well, you scamp! bring me some paper here.”
Newton.—“Here is the office, and here is the chairs, and here is the paper, and pen and ink, sir; and here is the chairs for all the attorneys that wants to do business here to come in and sit down.”
Gen. B. (with an oath).—“Bring it to me, sir!”
Newton.—“I won’t do it. Come in, sir, and sit at the table.”
The irate General sprang from his carriage, and, followed by the ever-ready Gaston, rushed into the court room in a menacing manner. But the imperturbable constable did not move, nor show signs of disturbance.
Gen. B. (with a vile epithet and oaths, which the reader should imagine, thickly strewn throughout this colloquy).—“Give me that chair!”
Newton.—“There is a chair.”