“I must think of it,” said Israel, not yet wholly confirmed in his mind. But once more he cast his glance on Horne Tooke, and his irresolution was gone.
The Squire now informed Israel that, to avoid suspicions, it would be necessary for him to remove to another place until the hour at which he should start for Paris. They enjoined upon him the profoundest secresy, gave him a guinea, with a letter for a gentleman in White Waltham, a town some miles from Brentford, which point they begged him to reach as soon as possible, there to tarry for further instructions.
Having informed him of thus much, Squire Woodcock asked him to hold out his right foot.
“What for?” said Israel.
“Why, would you not like to have a pair of new boots against your return?” smiled Home Tooke.
“Oh, yes; no objection at all,” said, Israel.
“Well, then, let the bootmaker measure you,” smiled Horne Tooke.
“Do you do it, Mr. Tooke,” said the Squire; “you measure men’s parts better than I.”
“Hold out your foot, my good friend,” said Horne Tooke—“there—now let’s measure your heart.”
“For that, measure me round the chest,” said Israel.