"He labors," replied Fog, "under a sinistrous and defective obliquity of comprehension; and from all I can make out of this colloquy, I rather incline to the opinion that he is not very willing to embark largely in our stock." And saying this, Fog folded his arms and looked steadfastly in Mr. Handy's face.
"Nor, as I should judge," said Handy in a kind of whisper, "is he likely to join me in my speculation in town lots. Fog, don't forget, you will indorse my note for the purchase-money of that hundred acres—I shall discount it to-morrow—I like to pay cash—that was always my principle."
"Undoubtedly—consider me a sure card in that line," replied Fog:—"it is understood, of course, that you reciprocate the favor on my purchase of the meadow?"
"Without question—assuredly, Fog—one good turn deserves another."
"Then, let's go up and take a drink," said Fog, imitating the tone of a tragedy-player—"we'll call it twelve, although my dial points but half way from eleven."
"You know I never drink," quoth Handy.
"Then come and look on me while I that act perform," said Theodore.
"Agreed," said Nicodemus. And thereupon these trusty friends went straight to Nim Porter's bar.