HILLCRIST. Look here, Mr. Hornblower—this infernal gout makes me irritable—puts me at a disadvantage. But I should be glad if you'd kindly explain yourself.
HORNBLOWER. [With a great smile] Ca' canny; I'm fra' the North.
HILLCRIST. I'm told you wish to buy the Centry and put more of your chimneys up there, regardless of the fact [He Points through the window] that it would utterly ruin the house we've had for generations, and all our pleasure here.
HORNBLOWER. How the man talks! Why! Ye'd think he owned the sky, because his fathers built him a house with a pretty view, where he's nothing to do but live. It's sheer want of something to do that gives ye your fine sentiments, Hillcrist.
HILLCRIST. Have the goodness not to charge me with idleness. Dawker—where is he?——[He shows the bureau] When you do the drudgery of your works as thoroughly as I do that of my estate—— Is it true about the Centry?
HORNBLOWER. Gospel true. If ye want to know, my son Chearlie is buyin' it this very minute.
MRS. H. [Turning with a start] What do you say?
HORNBLOWER. Ay, he's with the old lady she wants to sell, an' she'll get her price, whatever it is.
HILLCRIST. [With deep anger] If that isn't a skin game, Mr. Hornblower, I don't know what is.
HORNBLOWER. Ah! Ye've got a very nice expression there. "Skin game!" Well, bad words break no bones, an' they're wonderful for hardenin' the heart. If it wasn't for a lady's presence, I could give ye a specimen or two.