“Yes—yes! Hear—hear!” cried everybody; “we meant turn out the landlord.”
“Where—where—is she? Curses on her—where is she—is it a dream?” murmured Britton, recovering from his mixed state of insensibility, produced by drink and a blow of his head against the floor.
“Was—it true—eh?” continued Britton; “where the devil am I now? Can’t you speak, none of you?”
The landlord turned to the company, and placed his fingers confidentially and knowingly against the side of his nose, in intimation that he was about to perpetrate some piece of extreme cleverness not quite consistent with truth. Then, turning to Britton, he said in a commiserating tone,—
“Good luck, Master King Britton, your majesty certainly took forty winks in a chair, and by some sudden move, it has upset your majesty.”
“Is—is—that it?” said Britton, looking around him with heavy eyes.
“Yes all these honourable gentlemen can bear me out in what I say.”
“Curse me, then, if ever I had such a dream,” said Britton.
“All dreams are very disagreeable,” said the landlord.
The landlord now turned again to the company, and favoured them with another bit of facetiousness, which consisted in rubbing his left elbow and going through the motion of drinking in dumb show; and having so bespoken their kind and considerate attention, he turned to Britton, and added,—
“Your worship’s majesty had just ordered cans of spiced canary all round, as you went off to sleep like a babe.”
“Had I,” growled Britton; “I suppose they all had it then?”
The landlord looked rather taken aback by this, and rubbed his chin in an abstracted manner with his apron, while the guests looked at each other in consternation.
“What are you staring at, all of you?” cried Britton. “You have seen a gentleman, before, I suppose?”
“Then go to the devil while I go for a walk!” added Britton, staggering to the door, and as he passed out he muttered to himself,—
“A dream! No, no—no dream. She will do me some mischief yet. I must kill her—curses on her; and he too. What did he want here? I know—it was Hartleton! But curse them all—I’ll be even with them yet. I should like to cut all their throats, and treat those beasts I have just left with cans all round of their blood! I’d make them drink—damme, I’d make them drink it!”