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"What I mean, Mistoo Itchlin," resumed Narcisse, preferring to avoid Mary's aroused eye, "what I mean Doctah Seveeah don't un'stan' that kine of business co'ectly. Still, ad the same time, if I was you I know I would 'ate faw my money not to be makin' me some inte'es'. I tell you what I would do with you, Mistoo Itchlin, in fact: I kin baw' that fifty dollah f'om you myseff."
"Doctah Seveeah," said Narcisse, suddenly, as he finished sticking with great fervor the postage-stamps on some letters the Doctor had written, and having studied with much care the phraseology of what he had to say, and screwed up his courage to the pitch of utterance, "I saw yo' notiz on the noozpapeh this mornin'."
Seveeah," Narcisse came forward, hat in hand, "I dunno 'ow 'tis, but Mistoo Itchlin always wemine me of that povvub, 'Ully to bed, ully to 'ise, make a pusson to be 'ealthy an' wealthy an' wise." "I don't know how it is, either," grumbled the Doctor. "I believe thass not the povvub I was thinking. I am acquainting myseff with those povvubs; but I'm somewhat gween in that light, in fact.
But appopo of that news, I might infawm you some intelligens consunning myseff." "Good!" exclaimed Richling. "For it's good news, isn't it?" "Yesseh, as you may say, yes. Faw in fact, Mistoo Itchlin, I 'ave ass Dr. Seveeah to haugment me." "Hurrah!" cried Richling.
"Why, you couldn't make a greater mistake!" "Mistaken! Hah! W'en I ged that memo'andum f'om Dr. Seveeah to paz that fifty dollah at yo' cwedit, it burz f'om me, that egsclamation! 'Acchilly! 'ow that Mistoo Itchlin deserve the 'espect to save a lill quantity of money like that!" The laughter of John and Mary did not impede his rhapsody, nor their protestations shake his convictions.
'Doctah Seveeah, says I, 'don't you call me a jackass ag'in! An' 'e din call it me ag'in. No, seh. But 'e din like to 'ush up. Thass the rizz'n 'e was a lil miscutteous to you. Me, I am always polite. As they say, 'A nod is juz as good as a kick f'om a bline hoss. You are fon' of maxim, Mistoo Itchlin? Me, I'm ve'y fon' of them.
Seveeah continue my sala'y whilce I'm gone. no matteh the len'th. Me, I don' care, so long the sala'y continue, if that waugh las' ten yeah! You ah pe'haps goin' ad the ball to-nighd, Mistoo Itchlin? I dunno 'ow 'tis I suppose you'll be aztonizh' w'en I infawm you that ball wemine me of that battle of Wattaloo! Did you evva yeh those line' of Lawd By'on,
Narcisse had already apologized by two or three gestures to each of his hearers. "Misses Itchlin Mistoo Itchlin," he shook his head and smiled skeptically, "you think you kin admiah Doctah Seveeah mo' than me? 'Tis uzeless to attempt. 'With all 'is fault I love 'im still." Richling and his wife both spoke at once. "But John and I," exclaimed Mary, electrically, "love him, faults and all!"
Also, Voltaire. Yesseh. An' Napoleon Bonaparte. Lawd By'on muz 'ave 'ad a beaucheouz chi'og'aphy. 'Tis impossible not to be, with that face. He is my favo'ite poet, that Lawd By'on. Moze people pwefeh 'im to Shakspere, in fact. Well, you muz go? I am ve'y 'appy to meck yo' acquaintanze, Mistoo Itchlin, seh. I am so'y Doctah Seveeah is not theh pwesently.
An' I'm compel' to tell you one thing, Mistoo Itchlin, in fact: I nevvah would leave money with Doctah Seveeah to invez faw me no!" Richling gave a little start, and cast his eyes an instant toward his wife. She spoke. "We'd rather you wouldn't say that to us, Mister " There was a commanding smile at one corner of her lips. "You don't know what a friend"
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