“Come, brothers,” said Peter, “fall to, and spare not; here is excellent good mutton {96}; or hold, now my hand is in, I’ll help you.” At which word, in much ceremony, with fork and knife, he carves out two good slices of a loaf, and presents each on a plate to his brothers. The elder of the two, not suddenly entering into Lord Peter’s conceit, began with very civil language to examine the mystery. “My lord,” said he, “I doubt, with great submission, there may be some mistake.” “What!” says Peter, “you are pleasant; come then, let us hear this jest your head is so big with.” “None in the world, my Lord; but unless I am very much deceived, your Lordship was pleased a while ago to let fall a word about mutton, and I would be glad to see it with all my heart.” “How,” said Peter, appearing in great surprise, “I do not comprehend this at all;” upon which the younger, interposing to set the business right, “My Lord,” said he, “my brother, I suppose, is hungry, and longs for the mutton your Lordship hath promised us to dinner.” “Pray,” said Peter, “take me along with you, either you are both mad, or disposed to be merrier than I approve of; if you there do not like your piece, I will carve you another, though I should take that to be the choice bit of the whole shoulder.” “What then, my Lord?” replied the first; “it seems this is a shoulder of mutton all this while.” “Pray, sir,” says Peter, “eat your victuals and leave off your impertinence, if you please, for I am not disposed to relish it at present;” but the other could not forbear, being over-provoked at the affected seriousness of Peter’s countenance. “My Lord,” said he, “I can only say, that to my eyes and fingers, and teeth and nose, it seems to be nothing but a crust of bread.” Upon which the second put in his word. “I never saw a piece of mutton in my life so nearly resembling a slice from a twelve-penny loaf.” “Look ye, gentlemen,” cries Peter in a rage, “to convince you what a couple of blind, positive, ignorant, wilful puppies you are, I will use but this plain argument; by G—, it is true, good, natural mutton as any in Leadenhall Market; and G— confound you both eternally if you offer to believe otherwise.” Such a thundering proof as this left no further room for objection; the two unbelievers began to gather and pocket up their mistake as hastily as they could. “Why, truly,” said the first, “upon more mature consideration”—“Ay,” says the other, interrupting him, “now I have thought better on the thing, your Lordship seems to have a great deal of reason.” “Very well,” said Peter. “Here, boy, fill me a beer-glass of claret. Here’s to you both with all my heart.” The two brethren, much delighted to see him so readily appeased, returned their most humble thanks, and said they would be glad to pledge his Lordship. “That you shall,” said Peter, “I am not a person to refuse you anything that is reasonable; wine moderately taken is a cordial. Here is a glass