“Well, can we go forward, then?” demanded the anxious and wearied traveller.
“Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water;” replied the joskin, with a grin.
This was certainly a situation more ridiculous than interesting; and I smiled when I heard the story told, little suspecting that Fortune would one day throw me into a similar dilemina—so blindly do we mortals hug ourselves in the supposed security of our tact and foresight.
“How d'ye do, Mr. Andrew,” said Mr. Crobble, when he had seated himself, and sufficiently inflated his lungs, after the fatiguing operation of mounting the stairs.
“Where's Timmis?—tell him I want a word with him.”
I quickly summoned my patron, and followed him into the office.
“Well, old puff and blow!” exclaimed Mr. Timmis, with his usual familiarity.
“What's in the wind? Want to sell out? The fives are fallen three per cent. since Friday. All the 'Change is as busy as the devil in a high wind.”
“No—no more dabbling, Timmis,” replied Mr. Crobble; “I lost a cool hundred last account; I want a word in private with you”—and he glanced towards me; upon which I seized my hat, and took up my position at my old post on the landing. How were my feelings altered since I first loitered there, listening to the marvels of poor Matthew!
I was lost in a pleasant reverie, when the sharp voice of Mr. Timmis recalled me.