“What height are you?” asked the father, rather abruptly.
“I can't see, Mr. Burke, I really can't see what my height has to do with the question.”
“Bekaise,” proceeded the other, “I have some notion of putting you into the army. You spoke of it wanst yourself, remimber; but then there's an objection even to that.”
“Pray, what is the objection, Mr. Burke?”
“Why, it's most likely you'd have to fight—if you took to the milintary trade.”
“Why, upon my word, Mr. Burke, you shine in the sarcastic this evening.”
“But, at any rate, you must take your chance for that. You're a fine, active young fellow, and I suppose if they take to runnin' you won't be the last of them.”
“Good, Mr. Burke—proceed, though.”
“An accordingly I have strong notions of buying you a corplar's or a sargent's commission. A good deal of that, however, depends upon yourself; but, as you say, I'll think of it.”
Hycy, who could never bear ridicule, especially from the very man whom he attempted to ridicule most, bounced up, and after muttering something in the shape of an oath that was unintelligible, said, assuming all his polite irony:—