“I will sell you some of my fish,” said La Certe, who on all occasions had a keen eye for a bargain.
“Good! I am ready to buy,” said the poor fellow, “but I have not much to spend. Only last week I gave my silver watch for eight gallons of wheat. I meant it for seed, but my wife and children were starving, so we were have no seed and only five shillings to spare.”
“Well, my friend,” said La Certe, “fish is very scarce just now, but you may have five goldeyes for your five shillings.”
“O! that is too much,” remonstrated the Switzer.
“No, no,” interrupted the half-breed, amiably, “by no means—but if you really think it too much fish for the money I will give you four goldeyes!”
“Come, you know I don’t mean that,” returned the other, with a cynical smile. “Make it six, and I will agree. And here is a pinch of snuff in to the bargain.”
He pulled out a box as he spoke, and opened it.
“Ha!” said La Certe, helping himself. “I love snuff, and so does my wife. Do you not?”
Slowfoot answered, “Hee! hee!” and helped herself to as much as a good broad finger and thumb could grasp, after which she sneezed with violence.
“Now, behold! my friend—a-wheesht!” said La Certe, sneezing a bass accompaniment to Slowfoot’s treble. “I will give you a catfish—a whole catfish for—a-wheesht!—for that box and snuff.”