‘I am agreeable to anything which is agreeable to Mr. Giles,’ said a shorter man; who was by no means of a slim figure, and who was very pale in the face, and very polite: as frightened men frequently are.
‘I shouldn’t wish to appear ill-mannered, gentlemen,’ said the third, who had called the dogs back, ‘Mr. Giles ought to know.’
‘Certainly,’ replied the shorter man; ‘and whatever Mr. Giles says, it isn’t our place to contradict him. No, no, I know my sitiwation! Thank my stars, I know my sitiwation.’ To tell the truth, the little man did seem to know his situation, and to know perfectly well that it was by no means a desirable one; for his teeth chattered in his head as he spoke.
‘You are afraid, Brittles,’ said Mr. Giles.
‘I an’t,’ said Brittles.
‘You are,’ said Giles.
‘You’re a falsehood, Mr. Giles,’ said Brittles.
‘You’re a lie, Brittles,’ said Mr. Giles.
Now, these four retorts arose from Mr. Giles’s taunt; and Mr. Giles’s taunt had arisen from his indignation at having the responsibility of going home again, imposed upon himself under cover of a compliment. The third man brought the dispute to a close, most philosophically.
‘I’ll tell you what it is, gentlemen,’ said he, ‘we’re all afraid.’