_Dan._ No, nothing at all; and so my blood began to rise. He made the poor old man almost fit to cry. _Dennis._ That wasn't your concern, you know. _Dan._ Bless you, mun! 'twould ha' look'd busy like, in me, to say a word; so I took up a warming pan, and I bang'd bum bailey, wi' the broad end on't, 'till he fell o' the floor as fat as twopence. _Dennis._ Oh, hubaboo! lodge in my heart, and I'll never ax you for rent--you're a friend in need. Remember, I've a warmingpan--you know where it hangs, and that's enough. _Dan._ They had like to ha' warm'd I, finely, I do know. I ware nigh being haul'd to prison; 'cause, as well as I could make out their cant, it do seem I had rescued myself, and broke a statue. _Dennis._ Och, the Philistines! _Dan._ But our traveller--I do think he be the devil--he settled all in a jiffy; for he paid the old man's debts, and the bailey's broken head ware chuck'd into the bargain. _Dennis._ And what did he pay? _Dan._ Guess now. _Dennis._ A hundred pounds? _Dan._ Six thousand, by gum! _Dennis._ What! on the nail? _Dan._ Na; on the counter. _Dennis._ Whew!--six thousand pou----! Oh, by the powers, this man must be the philosopher's stone! Dan---- _Dan._ Hush! here he be. _Enter PEREGRINE, from the House._ _Per._ [_To DAN._] So, friend, you have brought provision, I perceive. _Dan._ Ees, sir;--three boil'd fowls, three roast, two chicken pies, and a capon. _Per._ You have considered abundance, more than variety. And the wine? _Dan._ A dozen o' capital red port, sir: I ax'd for the newest they had i' the cellar. _Dennis._ [_To himself._] Six thousand pounds upon a counter! _Per._ [_To DAN._] Carry the hamper in doors; then return to me instantly. You must accompany me in another excursion. _Dan._ What, now? _Per._ Yes; to Sir Simon Rochdale's. You are not tired, my honest fellow? _Dan._ Na, not a walking wi' you;--but, dang me, when you die, if all the shoemakers shouldn't go into mourning. [_DAN takes the Hamper into the House._ _Dennis._ [_Ruminating._] Six thousand pounds! by St. Patrick, it's a sum! _Per._ How many miles from here to the Manor house? _Dennis._ Six thousand! _Per._ Six thousand!--yards you mean, I suppose, friend. _Dennis._ Sir!--Eh? Yes, sir, I--I mean yards--all upon a counter! _Per._ Six thousand yards upon a counter! Mine host, here, seems a little bewildered;--but he has been anxious, I find, for poor Mary, and 'tis national in him to blend eccentricity with kindness. John Bull exhibits a plain, undecorated dish of solid benevolence; but Pat has a gay garnish of whim around his good nature; and if, now and then, 'tis sprinkled in a little confusion, they must have vitiated stomachs, who are not pleased with the embellishment. _Enter DAN, booted._ _Dan._ Now, sir, you and I'll stump it. _Per._ Is the way we are to go now, so much worse, that you have cased yourself in those boots?