"Oh! the dog—pass me the mug."
Tom gave him the mug. The farmer took a long pull and handed it to his nephew who drank so well that he completely emptied it, and afterwards said: "We ought to lie in wait for their arrival and attack the ninny."
"That's what I'll do, and—" clenching his fists—"he'll be lucky if he escapes."
"You ought to give him a lesson which he won't forget soon."
"I ought to, still, when one comes to think of it, he might have me flung in prison for assault."
"You wait till he is alone, then you can settle him."
"If I were sentenced to a term of imprisonment, my reputation would be ruined. However, I'm master of my daughter, I will give this young fellow a good shaking, and, as for her; I shall see."
"I shall be hiding behind the hedge; if you require any help, I will give it you."
"I think I can frighten him alone—my daughter marry one of those white-faced spendthrifts, why my throat dries up at the thought of it;—pass me the mug."
Tom did as he was requested, feeling very uneasy. The farmer was about to drink, but he exclaimed: "Why, its empty."