“Well, he is one,” said Marmaduke, with the air of a man that was determined not to dispute the point.
“Jotham Riddel is another.”
“Who?”
“Jotham Riddel.”
“What, that dissatisfied, shiftless, lazy, speculating fellow! he who changes his county every three years, his farm every six months, and his occupation every season! an agriculturist yesterday, a shoemaker to-day, and a school master to-morrow! that epitome of all the unsteady and profitless propensities of the settlers without one of their good qualities to counterbalance the evil! Nay, Richard, this is too bad for even—but the third.”
“As the third is not used to hearing such comments on his character, Judge Temple, I shall not name him.”
“The amount of all this, then, Dickon, is that the trio, of which you are one, and the principal, have made some important discovery.”
“I have not said that I am one, Judge Temple. As I told you before, say nothing egotistical. But a discovery has been made, and you are deeply interested in it.”
“Proceed—I am all ears.”
“No, no, 'Duke, you are bad enough, I own, but not so bad as that, either; your ears are not quite full grown.”