“‘I been waitin’, Tumm,’ says he. ‘Does you hear?’
“I bent close t’ hear.
“‘I’m in a hurry,’ says he. ‘Isn’t got no chance t’ pass the time o’ day. Does you hear?’
“‘Ay,’ says I.
“‘I got hopes,’ says he. ‘Tom Neverbudge haves come down t’ twenty-two seventy-five. You’ll find a old sock in the corner locker, Tumm,’ says he, ‘with my fortune in the toe. Pass un here. An’ hurry, Tumm, hurry, for I isn’t got much of a grip left! Now, Tumm,’ says he, ‘measure the swile oil in the stage an’ balance me up for the las’ time.’
“‘How much you got in that sock?’ says I.
“‘Nothin’ much,’ says he. ‘Jus’ a little left over.’
“‘But how much?’
“‘I’m not wantin’ t’ tell,’ says he, ‘lest you cheat me with kindness. I’d have you treat me as a man, come what will.’
“‘So help me God! then, Bill Hulk,’ says I, ‘I’ll strike that balance fair.’