“Will you pay for the mare I bought, father?” asked Hycy, very seriously. “I have already told you, that I paid three guineas earnest; I hope you will regard your name and family so far as to prevent me from breaking my word—besides leading the world to suppose that you are a poor man.”
“Regard my name and family!” returned the father, with a look of bitterness and sorrow; “who is bringin' them into disgrace, Hycy?”
“In the meantime,” replied the son, “I have asked a plain question, Mr. Burke, and I expect a plain answer; will you pay for the mare?”
“An' supposin' I don't?”
“Why, then, Mr. Burke, if you don't you won't, that's all.”
“I must stop some time,” replied his father, “an' that is now. I wont pay for her.”
“Well then, sir, I shall feel obliged, as your respectable wife has just said, if you will allow me to eat, and if possible, live in peace.”
“I'm speakin' only for your—”
“That will do now—hush—silence if you please.”
“Hycy dear,” said the mother; “why would you ax him another question about it? Drop the thing altogether.”