Galloping Dick
“Goods,” says I, smiling broadly, and with an air of intelligence, “are sunk most dismal low this season.”
“Ah!” says he, vacantly.
“Why,” I went on, seeing he kept his tongue, “there was a dozen pieces of holland sold in London last week, and that of the finest, at no more than four shillings the ell.”
“Ah!” says he again, and adds, “Indeed!” indifferently.
“You may well say that,” says I, “but ’tis a fact of my own knowledge. Broadcloth, silk drugget, and brocades—’sbud, I know not which lies in the worse case in the markets. Now, in your own experience,” says I, “what price have you put upon”
“Why, man,” says he, interrupting me sharply, “what the Devil! Do you take me for a” and there he stopped mighty quick. “O well,” says he in another voice, “yes, yes, I find ’em one as bad as another,” he says.
“And black Colchester bays?” says I.
“Ah, yes, yes, that too,” says he, nodding: “Colchester bays, too.”
54
