“Yes, it does blow, but I don’t mind it—I’m very much obliged to you,” said the pale young man, with the white hair and freckles, holding his carpet-bag in his arms, as if it were a baby.
“Who said you did?” growled Bill Harkins. “You’ll be safe in Lunnon in half an ’our, while I’ll be a-drivin’ back through this ’ere win’ and rain, getting wetted right through. If you don’t mind it, I does, Mr. Toosypegs.”
“Mr. Harkins,” said Mr. Toosypegs, humbly, “I’m very sorry to put you to so much trouble, I’m sure, but if two extra crowns—”
“Mr. Toosypegs,” interrupted Mr. Harkins, with a sudden burst of feeling, “give us yer hand; yer a trump. It’s easy to be perceived, them as is gentlemen from them as isn’t. You’re one o’ the right sort; oughter to be a lord, by jingo! Get up, hold lazybones,” said Mr. Harkins, touching the near-wheeler daintily with his whip.
“Mr. Harkins, it’s very good of you to say so, and I’m very much obliged to you, I’m sure,” said Mr. Toosypegs, gratefully; “but, at the same time, if you’ll please to recollect. I’m an American, and consequently couldn’t be a lord. There aren’t any lords over in America, Mr. Harkins; though if there was, I dare say I would be one. It’s real kind of you to wish it, though, and I’m much obliged to you,” added Mr. Toosypegs, with emotion.
“Hamerica must be a hodd sorter place,” said Mr. Harkins, reflectively. “I’ve heern tell that your king—”
“He isn’t a king, Mr. Harkins; he’s only the President,” broke in Mr. Toosypegs, with energy.
“Well, President, then,” said Mr. Harkins, adopting the amendment with a look of disgust. “I’ve heern they call him ‘mister,’ jest like hany hother man.”
“So they do; and he glories in the triumphant title—a title which, as an American citizen’s, is a prouder one than that of king or kaiser!” said Mr. Toosypegs, enthusiastically, while he repeated the sentence he had read out of a late novel: “—It is a title for which emperors might lay down their scepters—for which potentates might doff the royal purple—for which the great ones of the earth might—a—might’”—Mr. Toosypegs paused and knit his brows, having evidently lost his cue.
“Kick the bucket!” suggested Mr. Harkins, coming to his aid.