"Ben—Ben?" said Sir Richard, "who is Ben? Oh, I think I know. Pray show him in at once. It is my friend the beef-eater, from the Tower."
"Easy does it," said Ben, popping his head in at the door of the room. "Easy does it."
"So it does, Ben. Come in. I am glad to see you. You can go, Crotchet. Pray be seated, Ben, and tell me how I can serve you in any way, my good friend, and you may be assured that I shall have exceeding pleasure in doing so, if I possibly can in any way."
"Lord bless you," said Ben, "I hardly knows. There's ups and downs in this here world, and ins and outs."
"Not a doubt of it, Ben."
"And retreats within retreats, Sir Richard, and foxes, and laughing hyenas, as you can't concilliorate no how, if you wollop 'em till you can't wollop 'em no more."
"Precisely, Ben. If I were a hyena, I don't exactly think, do you know, that such a process would conciliate me."
"Oh, dear yes—it's the only way. But what I've come about, Sir Richard, is what I calls a delicate affair. Oh, dear yes—I tries to take it easy but I can't—I'm—I'm—"
"What, Ben?"
"I'm in love! Oh!"