"I will not venture to say a word," said Thorn smiling. "Protestations would certainly fall flat at the gates where les douces paroles cannot enter. But do you know this is picking a man's pocket of all his silver pennies and obliging him to produce his gold."
"That would be a hard measure upon a good many people," said Fleda laughing. "But they're not driven to that. There's plenty of small change left."
"You certainly do not deal in the coin you condemn," said Thorn bowing. "But you will remember that none call for gold but those who can exchange it, and the number of them is few. In a world where cowrie passes current a man may be excused for not throwing about his guineas."
"I wish you'd throw about a few for our entertainment," said Charlton, who was close behind. "I haven't seen a yellow-boy in a good while."
"A proof that your eyes are not jaundiced," said his friend without turning his head, "whatever may be the case with you otherwise. Is he out of humour with the country life you like so well, Miss Ringgan, or has he left his domestic tastes in Mexico? How do you think he likes Queechy?"
"You might as well ask myself," said Charlton.
"How do you think he likes Queechy, Miss Ringgan?"
"I am afraid something after the fashion of Touchstone," said Fleda laughing;--"he thinks that 'in respect of itself it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, he likes it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth him well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious.'"
"There's a guinea for you, Capt. Rossitur," said his friend. "Do you know out of what mint?"
"It doesn't bear the head of Socrates," said Charlton.