Half an hour afterwards Dick emerged from the inn, and if Fancy’s lips had been real cherries probably Dick’s would have appeared deeply stained. The landlord was standing in the yard.
“Heu-heu! hay-hay, Master Dewy! Ho-ho!” he laughed, letting the laugh slip out gently and by degrees that it might make little noise in its exit, and smiting Dick under the fifth rib at the same time. “This will never do, upon my life, Master Dewy! calling for tay for a feymel passenger, and then going in and sitting down and having some too, and biding such a fine long time!”
“But surely you know?” said Dick, with great apparent surprise. “Yes, yes! Ha-ha!” smiting the landlord under the ribs in return.
“Why, what? Yes, yes; ha-ha!”
“You know, of course!”
“Yes, of course! But—that is—I don’t.”
“Why about—between that young lady and me?” nodding to the window of the room that Fancy occupied.
“No; not I!” said the innkeeper, bringing his eyes into circles.
“And you don’t!”
“Not a word, I’ll take my oath!”