Just. You did—did ye so?—hum! Pray, my good friend, where might you put your money when you went to bed?
Old M. Please, your worship, where I always put it—always—in my tobacco-box.
Just. Your tobacco-box! I never heard of such a thing—to make a strong box of a tobacco-box. Ha! ha! ha! hum!—and you say the box and all were gone in the morning?
Old M. No, please your worship, no; not the box—the box was never stirred from the place where I put it. They left me the box.
Just. Tut, tut, tut, man!—took the money and left the box? I’ll never believe that! I’ll never believe that anyone could be such a fool. Tut, tut! the thing’s impossible! It’s well you are not upon oath.
Old M. If I were, please your worship, I should say the same; for it is the truth.
Just. Don’t tell me, don’t tell me; I say the thing is impossible.
Old M. Please, your worship, here’s the box.
Just. (goes on without looking at it). Nonsense! nonsense! it’s no such thing; it’s no such thing, I say—no man would take the money and leave the tobacco-box. I won’t believe it. Nothing shall make me believe it ever—that’s poz.
Lucy (takes the box, and holds it up before her father’s eyes). You did not see the box, did you, papa!