"Ah! my dear Jinks," he said, after bowing to Verty familiarly, "how did you get out of that scrape? I regret that business of a private and important nature forced me to leave you, and go round the corner. How did it result?"
"Triumphantly, sir!" said Mr. Jinks, dismounting, and, with great dignity, entrusting Fodder to a stable-boy, lounging near; "that hound, O'Brallaghan, knew his place, sir, and did not presume to complain—"
"Of Fodder?"
"Of anything, sir."
"The fact is, it would have been ridiculous. What had he to complain of, I should like to be informed. So he retreated?"
"He did, sir," said Mr. Jinks, with dignity, "amid the hisses of the assembled crowd."
"Just as I suspected; it would take a bold fellow to force such a Don
Quixote and Dapple, as yourself and Fodder!"
"Yes; although I regretted," said Mr. Jinks, with great dignity, "the accident which occurred when we set out, I rejoice at having had an occasion to inform that Irish conspirator and St. Michael-hater, that I held him in opprobrious contempt."
And Mr. Jinks glanced at the landlord.
"He was making the breeches for St. Michael, whom he is to represent," said Mr. Jinks, "day after to-morrow; and I have not done with him—the Irish villain!"