"Which a half sufferin', my good young sir!" said Mrs. Tester, as she pocketed the gold coin, "is more than I expected on. And will hease my spazzums like the Poor Man's Friend. Which my own son once'st gave me a bottle on. As had beautiful red whiskers with a tendency to drink. And was known to his friends by a strawbery mark in the small of his back. And was fine growed and the very moral of you, my good young sir,—which drink were his rewing and enlisted him for a soger,—when the yaller fever cut him off like a flower in the West Ingies,—which the remembrance brings on the spazzums, to which I 'm a hafflicted martyr,—and my grateful thanks to you, my good young sir, and wishin' you a safe journey 'ome and 'ealth and 'appiness."
But we are somewhat anticipating events. It was not yet the next morning, nor was little Mr. Bouncer's breakfast at an end.
