“It was only last year.”
“Last year, and old Jack lost the last tooth out of his head last year too.”
“What! has he had his teeth out?” cried I, greatly concerned.
“Yes, and all his hair off since you was at school with him,” cried my companion, nearly rolling off the box with laughter.
“What do you mean?” I cried, in utter bewilderment at this catalogue of my friend’s misfortunes.
“Oh, don’t ask me. Old Jack Smith!”
“He’s not old,” said I, “not very, only about sixteen.”
This was too much for my driver, who clapped me on the back, and as soon as he could recover his utterance cried, “My eyes, you will find him growed!”
“Has he?” said I, half envious, for I wasn’t growing very quickly.
“Ain’t he! He’s growed a lump since you was at school together,” roared my eccentric friend.