"No!" said I, shaking my head.
"What—not—d'ye say 'no' to two pun' ten?"
"I do."
"Well, let's say three pound."
I shook my head and, drawing the iron from the fire, began to hammer at it.
"Well then," shouted the Postilion, for I was making as much din as possible, "say four—five—ten—fifteen—twenty-five—fifty!" Here I ceased hammering.
"Tell me when you've done!" said I.
"You're a cool customer, you are—ah! an' a rum un' at that—I never see a rummer."
"Other people have thought the same," said I, examining the half-finished horseshoe ere I set it back in the fire.
"Sixty guineas!" said the Postilion gloomily.