“Why do you laugh,” said I, rather angrily.
“Who the devil could help it;” he replied; “your woe-begone countenance would make a cat laugh.”
“Well,” said I, “we are in a pretty dilemma here. We owe our landlady fifteen shillings.”
“For which she will lay an embargo on our little effects—three black wigs and a low-comedy pair of breeches—this must be prevented.”
“But how?” I inquired.
“How? never mind; but order dinner directly.”
“Dinner!” said I; “don’t awaken painful recollections.”
“Go and do as I tell you,” he replied. “Order dinner—beef-steak and oyster-sauce.”
“Beef-steak! Are you mad”—but before I could finish the sentence, he had put on his hat and disappeared.
“Who knows?” thought I, after he was gone, “he’s a devilish clever fellow, something may turn up:” so I ordered the beef-steaks. In less than an hour, my friend returned with exultation in his looks.