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"I don't say it wasn't handsome in you to keep my man so close, do I? Be equally good-tempered to me, old boy! Old William Tell, Old Shaw, the Life Guardsman! Why, he's a model of the whole British army in himself, ladies and gentlemen. I'd give a fifty-pun' note to be such a figure of a man!" The affair being brought to this head, Mr. Mr.
As I was sauntering along the road, a cart overtook me, a covered baker's cart with the name painted outside, "Walker, Baker, Packworth." A brilliant idea seized me as I read the legend. Making a sign to the youth in charge to stop, I ran up and asked, "I say, what would you give me a lift for to Packworth?" "What for? S'pose we say a fifty-pun' note," was the facetious reply.
"Good!" says he; and he projuiced from his potfolio the fello of that bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yesterday. "I keep my promise, you see, Charles," says he. "You are now in Lady Griffin's service, in the place of Mr. Fitzclarence, who retires. Go to Froje's, and get a livery."
And what did they matter? "You're mighty wise, Juliar, about the party of the house and the fifty-pun' reward." So said the convict when the woman came back, after seeing that Micky had crossed the wall unmolested by authority. "Folk ain't in any such a hurry to get a man hanged when they know what'll happen if they fail of doing it. Not even for fifty pound!" "What will happen?"
"I could do with a fifty-pun' note pretty comfortable." "Oh, but really, how much? I want to go to Packworth awfully, but it's such a long way to walk." "What do you weigh, eh?" "I don't know; about seven stone, I think." "If you was eight stun I wouldn't take you, there! But hop up!"
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