'I'll take you,' replied Mr. Miller.
Then the hubbub of betting commenced, and raged with fury for a short time; some betting sovereigns, some half-sovereigns, other half-crowns and shillings, as to whether the hands of one or both held money.
Givers and takers being at length accommodated, perfect silence at length reigned, and all eyes turned upon the double fists of the respective champions.
Jack having adjusted his great tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, and put on a most consequential air, inquired, like a gambling-house keeper, if they were 'All done'—had all 'made their game?' And 'Yes! yes! yes!' resounded from all quarters.
'Then, gen'lemen,' said Jack, addressing Pacey and Sponge, who still kept their closed hands on the table, 'show!'
At the word, their hands opened, and each held money.
'A deal! a deal! a deal!' resounded through the room, accompanied with clapping of hands, thumping of the table, and dancing of glasses. 'You owe me a guinea,' exclaimed one. 'I want half a sovereign of you,' roared another. 'Here's my half-crown,' said a third, handing one across the table to the fortunate winner. A general settlement took place, in the midst of which the 'watch and appurts' were handed to Mr. Sponge.
'We'll drink Mr. Pacey's health,' said Mr. Puffington, helping himself to a bumper, and passing the lately replenished decanters. 'He's done the thing like a sportsman, and deserves to have luck with his deal. Your good health, Mr. Pacey!' continued he, addressing himself specifically to our friend, 'and luck to your horse.'
'Your good health, Mr. Pacey—your good health, Mr. Pacey—your good health, Mr. Pacey,' then followed in the various intonations that mark the feelings of the speaker towards the toastee, as the bottles passed round the table.
The excitement seemed to have given fresh zest to the wine, and those who had been shirking, or filling on heel-taps, now began filling bumpers, while those who always filled bumpers now took back hands.