“We expect it to be in the paper every day now,” said the youth; “they’ve tried to dodge us a good deal, but they can’t dodge us much longer—we’re a little too downy for em.”
“It have been a mighty long time about, surely,” said Mr. Bumpkin.
“O, that’s nothing,” said Horatio; “time’s nothing in Law! Why, a suit to administer a Will sometimes takes ’ears; and Bankruptcy, O my eye, ain’t there dodging about that, and jockeying too, eh! Crikey!”
Mr. Bumpkin here winked at his wife, as much as to
say, “Now you hold your tongue, and see me dror un out. I’ll have un.”
“Will ee tak a little more gin-and-water, sir?”
“No, thankee,” said the youth.
“A little more won’t hurt ee—it’ll do thee good.” And again he filled the tumbler; while the pale boy refilled his pipe.
“Now, who’s my counsellor gwine to be?” asked the farmer.
“Oh,” said Horatio, “a regular cruncher—Mr. Catapult.”