“No, no; I’ve had enough of that, young gentleman. This time I’m a-going to have my way, or the governor shall know all about it,—you see!”
“Oh, don’t say that!” said Loman. “Wait a little longer and it will be all right, it really will.”
“Not a bit of it. That’s what you said three months ago,” replied Cripps.
“I won’t ask you again,” pleaded the boy; “just this time, Cripps.”
“Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, that you ought,” exclaimed the virtuous landlord of the Cockchafer, “a keeping a honest man out of his money!”
“Oh, but I’m certain to have it then—that is, next to certain.”
“Oh! then what you’re telling me about this here Nightingale of yours is a lie, is it?” said the ’cute Mr Cripps. “You ain’t got it at all, ain’t you?”
Loman could have bitten his tongue off for making such a blunder.
“A lie? No; that is—Why, Cripps, the fact is—” he stammered, becoming suddenly very red.
“Well, drive on,” said Cripps, enjoying the boy’s confusion, and proud of his own sharpness.