"How do you like France, Mr Cocker?" said Mr Bullion.
"Not at all, sir; the folks has no sense; and no wonder we always wallop them by sea or land."
"Hem! Must I remind you, sir, that this is my country; that the French are my countrymen; and that you by no means wallop them either by sea or land."
"You French! you Frenchman!" replied Mr Cocker; "that is a joke! Bullion ain't altogether a French name, I think? No, no; it smells of the bank; it does. You ain't one of the parlevous—you ain't, that's certain."
"How often have I to order you, sir, not to doubt my word?" said Mr Bullion; and emphacised his speech with a form of expression that is generally considered a clencher.
"There! there!" cried Cocker, triumphant; "I told you so. Is there ever a Frenchman could swear like that? They ain't Christians enough to give such a jolly hearty curse as yourn; so you see, sir, it's no go to pass yourself off for a Mounseer."
"Leave the room, sir, and send Mr Hope to me at once!"
Cocker obeyed, puzzled more and more at the fancy his master was possessed with to deny his country.
"It would, perhaps, have been wiser," thought Mr Bullion, "to have left the plebeian fools at home till everything was formally completed; but still, nothing, I suppose, would have satisfied them but the evidence of their own eyes."
"Mr Hope," he said, as that young gentleman entered the room, "sit down beside me; nay, no ceremony, I shall always treat you with condescension and regard."