"No, you don't, sir," said Mr. Tuckle. "Very far from it, sir."
"We consider you an inattentive reskel," said the gentleman in the orange plush.
"And a low thief," added the gentleman in the green-foil smalls.
"And an unreclaimable blaygaird," added the gentleman in purple.
The poor greengrocer bowed very humbly while these little epithets were bestowed upon him, in the true spirit of the very smallest tyranny; and when every body had said something to show his superiority, Mr. Tuckle proceeded to carve the leg of mutton, and to help the company.
This important business of the evening had hardly commenced, when the door was thrown briskly open, and another gentleman in a light-blue suit, and leaden buttons, made his appearance.
"Against the rules," said Mr. Tuckle. "Too late, too late."
"No, no; positively I couldn't help it," said the gentleman in blue. "I appeal to the company. An affair of gallantry now, an appointment at the theayter."
"Oh, that indeed," said the gentleman in the orange plush.
"Yes; raly now, honour bright," said the man in blue. "I made a promese to fetch our youngest daughter at half-past ten, and she is such an uncauminly fine gal, that I raly hadn't the art to disappint her. No offence to the present company, sir, but a petticut, sir, a petticut, sir, is irrevokeable."
"I begin to suspect there's something in that quarter," said Tuckle, as the new comer took his seat next Sam. "I've remarked, once or twice, that she leans very heavy on your shoulder when she gets in and out of the carriage."
"Oh raly, raly, Tuckle, you shouldn't," said the man in blue. "It's not fair. I may have said to one or two friends Yaris that she was a very divine creechure, and had refused one or two offers without any hobvus cause, but—no, no, no,
