“A gross of green spectacles!” repeated my wife, in a faint voice. “And you have parted with the colt, and brought us back nothing but a gross of green paltry spectacles!”
“Dear mother,” cried the boy, “why won’t you listen to reason? I had them a dead bargain, or I should not have bought them. The silver rims alone will sell for double the money.”
“A fig for the silver rims!” cried my wife, in a passion; “I dare swear they won’t sell for above half the money at the rate of broken silver, five shillings an ounce.”
“You need be under no uneasiness,” said I, “about selling the rims, for they are not worth sixpence; for I perceive they are only copper varnished over.”
“What!” cried my wife; “not silver! the rims not silver!”
“No,” cried I; “no more silver than your saucepan.”
“And so,” returned she, “we have parted with the colt, and have got only a gross of green spectacles, with copper rims and shagreen cases? A murrain take such trumpery! The blockhead has been imposed upon, and should have known his company better.”
“There, my dear,” cried I, “you are wrong; he should not have known them at all.”
“To bring me such stuff!” returned she; “if I had them, I would throw them into the fire.”