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"Nutting, sare!" replied an alien tongue, a gleam of good teeth in the shadow of his great soft hat. "I been see Mistare Le-vie in ze 'ouse, on ze beezness, shentlemen." "Seen him, have you? Then if I were you I should make a decent departure," said Raffles, "by the gate " to which he pointed with increased severity of tone and bearing.
For myself I hold not with the Italian style and its eternal ornament and repetitions." "Aha ha Mistare Gay, I haf you now," chuckled Pepusch. "Your Purcell Engleesh is. He copy de Italian den." "Oh, may be may be in his own style," rejoined Gay hastily. "But here is my verse. Oblige me with the music." During the discussion Gay had been turning over a pile of manuscript on the table.
"Eh bien! How you do, Mistare Sonee? Is eet dat you weel have a peench of snuff?" For the Frenchman had quite forgotten Dave's mishap in snuff-taking, and offered the snuff out of habitual complaisance. "No, musheer," said Dave, "I can't use no snuff of late yeers. 'Fection of the nose; makes me sneeze dreffle." "Oh! Eh blen! C'est comme il faut. I mean dat is all right, vare good, mistare.
One day he slipped in at Madame Garcia's kitchen door with such a woe-begone air, and slid a small sack of nearly ripe plantains on the table with such a misery-laden sigh, that madame, who was fat and excitable, threw up both hands and cried out: "Mon Dieu, Mistare Baptiste, fo' w'y you look lak dat? What ees de mattare?" For answer, Mr. Baptiste shook his head gloomily and sighed again.
He walked in, in his slouching fashion, shook hands with M. Perritaut, gave his name as David Sawney, cawntracter, and after talking a little about the county-seat question, he broached the question of marriage with Mathilde Perritaut. "I hearn tell that you are willin' to do somethin' han'some fer a son-in-law." "Varee good, Mistare Sonee. You air a man of bisnees, perhaps, maybe.
"I weel promees in the contract to geeve you one ten tousant tollars deux mille two tousant avery yare for fife yare. Très bien. My daughtare is educate; she stoody fife, seex yare in te convent at Montreal. Zhe play on piano evare so many tune. Bien. You come Monday. We weel zee. Adieu. I mean good-by, Mistare Sonee." "Adoo, musheer," said Dave, taking his hat and leaving.
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