"Then I'll buy it," said Barnabas, and forthwith handed over the five shillings. Slipping the book into his pocket, he turned to go, yet paused again and addressed the Chapman over his shoulder.
"Shouldn't you like to become a gentleman?" he inquired.
Again the Chapman regarded him from the corners of his eyes, and again he coughed behind his hand.
"Well," he admitted, "I should an' I shouldn't. O' course it must be a fine thing to bow to a duchess, or 'and a earl's daughter into a chariot wi' four 'orses an' a couple o' footmen, or even to sit wi' a markus an' eat a French hortolon (which never 'aving seen, I don't know the taste on, but it sounds promising); oh yes, that part would suit me to a T; but then theer's t'other part to it, y' see."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, a gentleman has a great deal to live up to—theer's his dignity, y' see."
"Yes, I suppose so," Barnabas admitted.
"For instance, a gentleman couldn't very well be expected to sit in a ditch and enj'y a crust o' bread an' cheese; 'is dignity wouldn't allow of it, now would it?"
"Certainly not," said Barnabas.
"Nor yet drink 'ome-brewed out of a tin pot in a inn kitchen."