“Well, it ain’t exactly right,” said Tweedie, shrugging his shoulders, “but you’re so set on him going in.”
“Him? Who?” asked Captain Fazackerly, staring.
“The dog,” said Tweedie; “if he goes in as copper nails, he won’t be noticed.”
“If he goes in as tenpence, I’m a Dutchman,” said the bereaved owner, scoring out the copper nails. “You never knew that dog properly, Tweedie.”
“Well, never mind about the dog,” said Tweedie; “let’s cast the sheet. What do you think it comes to?”
“‘Bout thirty pun’,” hazarded the other.
“Thirty fiddlesticks,” retorted Tweedie; “there you are in black and white—sixty-three pounds eighteen shillings and tenpence ha’penny.”
“And is that what Mas’r Edward wants?” inquired Captain Fazackerly gasping.
“Yes; that’s a properly drawn up disbursement sheet,” said Tweedie in satisfied tones. “You see how it simplifies matters. The governor can see at a glance how things stand, while, if you trusted to your memory, you might forget something, or else claim something you didn’t have.”
“I ought to have had them things afore,” said Captain Fazackerly, shaking his head solemnly. “I’d ha’ been riding in my carriage by now.”