“Curse me, then, if ever I had such a dream,” said Britton.
“All dreams are very disagreeable,” said the landlord.
“Oh, very!” said the company.
“D—n you all,” muttered Britton.
The landlord now turned again to the company, and favoured them with another bit of facetiousness, which consisted in rubbing his left elbow and going through the motion of drinking in dumb show; and having so bespoken their kind and considerate attention, he turned to Britton, and added,—
“Your worship’s majesty had just ordered cans of spiced canary all round, as you went off to sleep like a babe.”
“Had I,” growled Britton; “I suppose they all had it then?”
“No, no, no!” cried a chorus of voices.
“Quite sure?”
“Oh, quite.”