"Don't go about for to say that I said Mowbray would rally.
My words have some weight in this quarter widow; Mowbray
rally! Why should it rally? Where's the elements?"
"Where indeed?" said Devilsdust as he entered the Cat and
Fiddle with Dandy Mick, "there is not the spirit of a louse in
Mowbray."
"That's a true bill," said Mick.
"Is there another white-livered town in the whole realm where
the operatives are all working half-time, and thanking the
Capitalists for keeping the mills going, and only starving
them by inches?" said Devilsdust in a tone of scorn.
"That's your time of day," said Mick.
"Very glad to see you, gentlemen," said Mr Trotman, "pray be
seated. There's a little baccy left yet in Mowbray, and a
glass of twist at your service."
"Nothing exciseable for me," said Devilsdust.
"Well it ayn't exactly the right ticket, Mrs Trotman, I
believe," said Mick, bowing gallantly to the lady; "but 'pon
my soul I am so thirsty, that I'll take Chaffing Jack at his
word;" and so saying Mick and Devilsdust ensconced themselves
in the bar, while good-hearted Mrs Carey, sipped her glass of
gin and water, which she frequently protested was a pool of
Bethesda.
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