Finding it
quite satisfactory, he stuck the point of his knife into the old plug,
and holding it out for their inspection, remarked with the air of a man
who had not lived in vain, that it was 'used up considerable.' Then
he tossed it away; put his knife into one pocket and his tobacco into
another; rested his chin upon the rail as before; and approving of the
pattern on Martin's waistcoat, reached out his hand to feel the texture
of that garment.
'What do you call this now?' he asked.
'Upon my word' said Martin, 'I don't know what it's called.'
'It'll cost a dollar or more a yard, I reckon?'
'I really don't know.'
'In my country,' said the gentleman, 'we know the cost of our own
pro-duce.'
Martin not discussing the question, there was a pause.
'Well!' resumed their new friend, after staring at them intently during
the whole interval of silence; 'how's the unnat'ral old parent by this
time?'
Mr Tapley regarding this inquiry as only another version of the
impertinent English question, 'How's your mother?' would have resented
it instantly, but for Martin's prompt interposition.
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