“So do I. Good morning.”
“Good morning, Squire.”
Over goes the mischief-maker to Hamble’s across the road.
“Good morning, Hamble!” as he enters the bar-room, where he finds that worthy making his lemons still sourer by looking at them.
“Have you heard the news, Hamble!” elevating his heels on the bar-room table, and deliberately drawing out a cigar. “By the way, Hamble, give me a light.” (He is also the most free and easy fellow in the world.)
“News! no—what news?”
“They say that old Wheeler shot John P.’s dog last night!”
“They say! who says? They say means nobody.”
“Well, they say in this case means your own son-in-law. Saint John just told me so.”
“Where! I don’t believe it!”