“Hullo,” says he, “here’s Trebelli!”
Now this was too much for the absorbing powers of even a Bumpkin. Horatio had carried it too far. Not that his friend had ever heard of the great vocalist, but if you are inclined for fun pray use names that will go down. Mr. Bumpkin looked hard at Horatio’s face, on which was just the faintest trace of a smile. And then he said:
“What a name, Bellie! danged if I doan’t think thee be stickin it into I,” and then he laughed and repeated, “thee be stickin it into I.”
“Now for Pagannini!” says Horatio; “now you’ll hear something. By Jove, he’ll show you!”
“Why I’ve eerd tell o’ thic Piganiny when I were a boy,” says Bumpkin, “used to play on one leg.”
“That’s the man,” says Horatio.
“But this ere man got two legs, how can he be Piganiny?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” says Horatio; “what’s it matter how many legs he’s got, just listen to that!”
“Why danged if that bean’t as much like thic Cochin Chiner cock o’ mine as ever I eered in my life.”
“Told you so,” says Horatio; “but keep quiet, you’ll hear something presently.”