"Your principal may give or keep what he likes," Joseph answered, carelessly; "I can pay for what I want. Call your master down: or stay, you'll do as well, I dare say. I want a complete rig-out from head to heel. Do you understand?"
"I shall, perhaps, when I see the money for it," the languid youth answered, with a sneer.
"So you've learned the way of the world already, have you, my lad?" said Joseph Wilmot, bitterly. Then, pulling his brother's memorandum-book from his pocket, he opened it, and took out the little packet of bank-notes. "I suppose you can understand these?" he said.
The languid youth lifted his nose, which by its natural conformation betrayed an aspiring character, and looked dubiously at his customer.
"I can understand as they might be flash uns," he remarked, significantly.
Mr. Joseph Wilmot growled out an oath, and made a plunge at the young shopman.
"I said as they might be flash," the youth remonstrated, quite meekly; "there's no call to fly at me. I didn't mean to give no offence."
"No," muttered Mr. Wilmot; "egad! you'd better not mean it. Call your master."
The youth retired to obey: he was quite subdued and submissive by this time.
Joseph Wilmot looked about the shop.