“So you are an assisted immigrant, are you?” cried the bamboo, in tones indicative of the greatest contempt. “Well, that’s all I care to know about you.”
The disputants grew more and more in earnest the longer they talked, and pretty soon there were some hard words used. I took no part in the controversy, for I felt rather bashful in the presence of those who had seen so much more of the world than I had, and who were worth so much more money, and besides I could not see what there was to quarrel about. My sympathies were with the bamboo, arrogant as he had showed himself to be, because he was an American like myself; but still the English fowling-piece, “assisted immigrant” though he was, had a right to live in this country so long as he behaved himself, and as he was a showy fellow, I had no doubt that he would get out of the store before either the bamboo or myself. And so he did. While the dispute was at its height the door opened and a young man came in—a tall young man, with very thin legs, peaked shoes, gold eye-glasses and a downy upper lip. He walked with a mincing step and drawled out his words when he talked.
Before I could ask what a “dude” was, the proprietor came up, and the talking was for a moment hushed. Being impatient to be released from the show-case so that we could see what was going on in the great world outside, each one of us cherished the secret hope that we might find favor in the eyes of the prospective purchaser. We were so inexperienced and foolish that we didn’t care much who bought us, so long as we got out.
“I—aw! I want to look at a nice light bird gun,” said the young man; “something you can recommend for woodcock and the like, don’t yer know?”
“Why, that’s a countryman of mine,” exclaimed the double-barrel, who seemed to be highly excited by the discovery.
The bamboo hastened to assure me that he wasn’t—that he was an American trying to ape English ways.
“Do you want a hammerless?” asked the proprietor.
“I—aw! They come pretty ’igh, don’t they?”
“Not necessarily. Here’s one worth a hundred and twenty-five dollars,” replied the storekeeper; and as he spoke, he opened the show-case and took from it a double-barrel who was so very plain in appearance, that I had not before taken more than a passing glance at him. “I judge from your speech that you are an Englishman, and if you are, you of course know more about this make of guns than I can tell you. It is a Greener.”