Mr. Pringle drawled a “yarse,” for he wanted to be turned out properly.
“Well, then,” continued Mr. Gaiters, changing his hat from his right hand to his left, subsiding into the second position, and speaking slowly and deliberately, “I suppose you want a groom to take the entire charge and management of your stable—a stud groom, in short?”
“Yarse, I s’pose so,” replied Billy, not knowing exactly what he wanted, and wishing his Mamma hadn’t sent him such a swell.
“Well, then, sir,” continued Mr. Gaiters, casting his eyes up to the dirty ceiling, and giving his chin a dry shave with his disengaged hand; “Well, then, sir, I flatter myself I can fulfil that office with credit to myself and satisfaction to my employer.”
“Yarse,” assented Billy, thinking there would be very little satisfaction in the matter.
“Buy the forage, hire the helpers, do everything appertaining to the department,—in fact, just as I did with the Honourable Captain Swellington.”
“Humph,” said Billy, recollecting that his Mamma always told him never to let servants buy anything for him that he could help.
“Might I ask if you buy your own horses?” inquired Mr. Gaiters, after a pause.
“Why, yarse, I do,” replied Billy; “at least I have so far.”
“Hum! That would be a consideration,” muttered Gaiters, compressing his mouth, as if he had now come to an obstacle; “that would be a consideration. Not that there’s any benefit or advantage to be derived from buying horses,” continued he, resuming his former tone; “but when a man’s character’s at stake, it’s agreeable, desirable, in fact, that he should be intrusted with the means of supporting it. I should like to buy the horses,” continued he, looking earnestly at Billy, as if to ascertain the amount of his gullibility.