'He's only a bloomin' mongrel.'"
"Very good; what am I to say next, Mr. Linton?"
"'Don't yer?' says the tother feller; 'then what the h---- are yer
looken arter him for?'
"'Well,' you ses, Mr. Orkins, 'you can go to h----. I don't keer for
the dawg; he ain't my fancy.'"
"A proper place for the whole lot of you, Sam."
"But, excuse me, Mr. Orkins, sir, that's for future occasions. This
'ere present one, in orferin' fourteen pun, you've let the cat out o'
the bag, and what I could ha' done had you consulted me sooner I can't
do now; I could ha' got him for a _fi'-pun note_ at one time, but
they've worked on your feelins, and, mark my words, they'll want
_twenty pun_ as the price o' that there dawg, as sure as my name's Sam
Linton. That's all I got to say, Mr. Orkins, and I thought I'd come
and warn yer like a man--he's got into bad hands, that there dawg."
"I am much obliged, Mr. Linton; you seem to be a
straightforward-dealing man."
"Well, sir, I tries to act upright and downstraight; and, as I ses,
if a man only does that he ain't got nothin' to fear, 'as he, Muster
Orkins?"
"When can I have him, Sam?"
"Well, sir, you can have him--let me see--Monday was a week, when you
lost him; next Monday'll be another week, when I found him; that'll be
a fortnit. Suppose we ses next Tooesday week?"
"Suppose we say to-morrow.
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