‘They’m prime,’ replied the boy.
‘Bring one for me; or, stop—are they extra?’
‘We throws them in with the steak, gratis.’
‘Then bring a dishful, with coffee, bread, and whatever else adds to the breakfast, without adding to the bill.’
The boy, having no other interest in the establishment than that of securing his own wages and meals, was highly delighted at this considerate order of Mr. Scrake, and forthwith disappeared to obey it.
In the meanwhile Mr. Scrake, after having deliberately re-perused the bill of fare, and not observing any thing else which could be got for nothing, laid it down, and looking at Mr. Kornicker, who was gazing abstractedly at the table-cloth, said that he hoped he (Mr. Scrake) was not going to be impertinent; and as Mr. Kornicker made no other reply than that of looking at him, as if he considered it a matter of some doubt whether he was or was not, he elucidated the meaning of his remark, by inquiring who Michael Rust was.
‘The old gentlemen that caters for me,’ replied Kornicker, carelessly.
‘And does he make you eat alone?’
‘If I dine double, he’ll stop the prog, that’s all.’
‘A sing’lar bargain—quite sing’lar; very sing’lar, in fact. Does he keep a tight eye over you?’