“I will go now;” and Laybold stood up, and tried to walk to the door—a feat which he accomplished with no little difficulty.
“Don’t be in a hurry, my boy. Come and take some finkel.”
“I don’t want any finkel.”
“Then come and pay the bill. I shall clean out this concern if I stay any longer.”
“How much, waiter?” stammered Laybold.
“One riksdaler.”
“Cheap enough. I should have been broken if they charged by the pound for what I ate.”
“That’s so,” added Laybold, as he gave the waiter an English sovereign, and received his change in paper.
“Now, my boy, we’ll go to sea again,” said Scott, as he staggered towards the door. “See here, Laybold.”
“Well, what do you want?” snarled the latter.