“Of course you told me he was with you,” said he, addressing his brother, and by the “he” meaning me, “but I should never have remembered it had I not caught the likeness. And how’s the major? and what is he doing? Why, he deserves to be changed into a frog, for living all his life out of England, and never coming to see a man. How is he? how is he?”
“Very well indeed,” said I.
“Does he ever talk of his brother Dick?”
“Oh yes.”
I should have been nearer the truth had I said “Oh no.”
“I’m his brother Dick. Gad take me! you stared, young ’un, as if I were a witch. Do I look as if I could ride a broomstick? hey? hey?” And he burst into a roar of laughter, so loud that I was almost stunned.
“And what’s brought you here, Dick?” said my uncle Tom.
“Why, I’m thinking of breeding some nags, Tom, and have come to look at ‘Young Sidney,’ belonging to Dixon, of the Three Geese; a good horse, my lad, rising four years old, sixteen and a quarter high: his dam, Tom, a Yorkshire mare, by ‘Slipslop,’ a splendid brute I wanted to buy, but that fellow Solomons wouldn’t part with her at my price. That’s some years since. So I told Teazer I’d run over here and see the animal, and have a look at the wife and Conny. How are they?”
“Very well. You’ll sleep at Grove End?”
“Yes; but I shall want to be away early. Wednesday’s settling-day on the Stock Exchange, and I must be in town to-morrow night.”