“Two Yorkers.”
“That is very cheap, if it is any weight. I don't like them under ten or twelve pounds.”
“Ten or twelve pounds! Why, woman, what do you mean? Would you expect a rooster to be bigger nor a turkey?”
We stared at each other. There was evidently some misconception on my part.
“Bring the roaster up; and if I like it, I will buy it, though I must confess that I am not very fond of roast pig.”
“Do you call this a pig?” said my she-merchant, drawing a fine game-cock from under her cloak.
I laughed heartily at my mistake, as I paid her down the money for the bonny bird. This little matter settled, I thought she would take her departure; but that rooster proved the dearest fowl to me that ever was bought.
“Do you keep backy and snuff here?” says she, sideling close up to me.
“We make no use of those articles.”
“How! Not use backy and snuff? That's oncommon.”