“Ten and fourpence.”
“Ten and fourpence!—never!” cried his incredulous companion. “Vot a himposition.”
“Vell!” said Mr. Grubb, with a bitter emphasis, “if this is finding our own wittles, we'll dine at the hor'nary next time”—
“Let's have a squint at it,” said Mr. Spriggs, reaching across the table; but all his squinting made the bill no less, and he laid it down with a sigh. “It is coming it rayther strong, to be sure,” continued he; “but I dare say it's all our happearance has as done it. He takes us for people o' consequence, and”—
“Vot consequence is that to us?” said Grubbs, doggedly.
“Vell, never mind, Dick, it's on'y vonce a-year, as the grotto-boys says—”
“It need'nt to be; or I'll be shot if he mightn't vistle for the brads. Howsomever, there's a hole in another suv'rin.”
“Ve shall get through it the sooner,” replied the consoling Spriggs. “I see, Grubb, there aint a bit of the Frenchman about you”—
“Vy, pray?”
“Cos, you know, they're fond o' changing their suv'rins, and—you aint!”