“He shall look to you for the money,” da-capo’d Thickset.
“You may look till doomsday,” said the landlord. “It’s all your own fault; I thought nobody would steal brooms. If you had told me there was honey, I would have put the waggon under lock and key.”
“Why, there _was_ honey,” said Quickset and Thickset.
“I don’t know that,” said Mr. Bush, “you said last night in the kitchen there was nothing but brooms.”
“I heard him,” said John Ostler; “I’ll take my oath to his very words!”
“And so will I,” roar’d the chambermaid, glancing at her damaged gown.
“What of that?” said Quickset, “I know I said there was nothing but brooms.”
“I know,” said Thickset, “I’m positive, he said there was nothing but brooms.”
“He confesses it himself,” said the landlady.
“And his own man speaks agin him,” said the chambermaid.
“I saw the waggon come in, and it didn’t seem to have any honey in it,” said the head waiter.
“May be the flies have eaten it,” said the postillion.
“I’ve seen two chaps the very moral of them two at the bar of the Old Bailey,” said Boots.
“It’s a swindle, it is,” said the landlady, “and Mr. Bush shan’t pay a farthing.”
“They deserve tossing in a blanket,” said the chambermaid.
“Duck ’em in the horsepond,” shouted John Ostler.
“I think,” whispered Thickset, “they are making themselves up for mischief!”
There was no time to be lost. Quickset again lugged Old Ball and Old Dumpling from the stable, while his companion tossed the brooms into the waggon. As soon as possible they drove out of the unlucky yard, and as they passed under the arch, I heard for the last time the voice of Thickset:
“You’ve been to London before, and to be sure know best; but somehow, to my mind, the telling the untruth don’t seem to answer.”
The only reply was a thwack, like the report of a pistol, on the crupper of each of the horses. The poor animals broke directly into something like a canter: and as the waggon turned a corner of the street, I shut down the sash, and resumed my “Illustrations of Lying.”
[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT: THE DUKE OF WELL---- AND PRINCE OF WATER--.]
To Waterloo, with sad ado, And many a sigh and groan, Amongst the dead, came Patty Head, To look for Peter Stone.
“O prithee tell, good sentinel, If I shall find him here? I’m come to weep upon his corse, My Ninety-Second dear!