“That’s what I says,” said Bumpkin; and down went his fist on Mr. Prigg’s table with such vehemence that the solicitor started as though aroused by a shock of dynamite.
“Let us be calm,” said the lawyer, taking some paper from his desk, and carefully examining the nib of a quill pen, “Let me see, I think you said your name was Thomas?”
“That’s it, sir; and so was my father’s afore me.”
“Thomas Bumpkin?”
“I beant ashamed on him.”
And then Mr. Prigg wrote out a document and read it aloud; and Mr. Bumpkin agreeing with it, scratched his name at the bottom—very badly scratched it was, but well enough for Mr. Prigg. This was simply to retain Mr. Prigg as his solicitor in the cause of Bumpkin v. Snooks.
“Quite so, quite so; now let me see; be calm, Mr. Bumpkin, be calm; in all these matters we must never lose our self-possession. You see, I am not excited.”
“Noa,” said Bumpkin; “but then ur dint tak thy pig.”
“Quite true, I can appreciate the position, it was no doubt a gross outrage. Now tell me—this Snooks, as I understand, is the coal-merchant down the village?”
“That’s ur,” said Bumpkin.