“Horsgilly—ah! so twur. Well, by thy leave,
worthy sir, will thee be so kind as to tell I be it anything like a hogshead?”
“Well,” said Mr. O’Rapley, “its more like a corkscrew: the taxes of the country would be bottled up as tight as champagne and you couldn’t get ’em out without this corkscrew.”
“But I worn’t spakin’ about taxes when I spak of dominoes; what I wur alludin’ to wur thic Joe been drawed in to goo for a soger.”
“Lor, bless you,” said Mrs. Oldtimes, “many a man as good as Joe have listed before now and will again.”
“Mayhap,” said Bumpkin; “but he wurn’t my ’ead witness and didn’t work for I. Joe be my right hand man, although I keeps un down and tells un he beant fit for nothin’.”
“Ha,” said the Don, “he’s not likely to go for a soldier, I think, if it’s that good-looking young chap I saw with the kicking-straps on.”
“Kickin’-straps,” said Bumpkin; “haw! haw! haw! That be a good un. Well he told I he wur up to un and I think ur be: he’ll be a clever feller if ur gets our Joe. Why Nancy ud goo amost out o’ her mind. And now, sir, will thee ’ave any moore?”
Mr. O’Rapley, in the most decisive but polite manner, refused. He had quite gone out of his way as it was in the hope of serving Mr. Bumpkin. He was sure that the thief would be convicted, and as he rose to depart seized his friend’s hand in the most affectionate manner. Anything he could do for him he was sure he would do cheerfully, at any amount of self-sacrifice—he would get up in the night to serve him.
“Thankee,” said Bumpkin; but he had hardly spoken when he was startled by the most uproarious cheers from