_Re-enter_ BILL. _Bill_. I'm hanged if this here blasted quid ain't a burnin' of me like a red-hot fardin'! I'm blest if I've slep' more 'n half the night. I woke up oncet, with it a slippin' down red lane. I wish I had swallered it. Then nobody 'd 'a' ast me vere I got it. I don't wonder as rich coves turn out sich a bad lot. I believe the devil's in this 'ere! _Knocks at_ MRS. CLIFFORD'S door. JAMES _opens. Is shutting it again_. BILL _shoves in his stool_. _Bill_. Hillo, Blazes! where's your manners? Is that the way you behaves to callers on your gov'nor's business? _James (half opening the door_). Get about your own business, you imperent boy! _Bill_. I'm about it now, young man. I wants to see your gov'nor. _James_. _You_'ve got business with _him_, have you, eh? _Bill_. Amazin' precoxity! You've hit it! I _have_ got business with _him_, Door-post--not in the wery smallest with _you_, Door-post!--essep' the knife-boy's been and neglected of your feet-bags this mornin'. (JAMES _would slam the door_. BILL _shoves in his stool_.) Don't you try that 'ere little game again, young man! for if I loses my temper and takes to hollerin', you'll wish yourself farther. _James_. A humbug you are! I 'ain't got no gov'nor, boy. The master as belongs to me is a mis'ess. _Bill_. Then that 'ere gen'lemen as comes an' goes, ain't your master--eh? _James_. What gen'leman, stoopid? _Bill_. Oh! it don't matter. _James_. What _have--you--got_ to say to _him_? _Bill_. Some'at pickled: it'll keep. _James_. I'll give him a message, if you like. _Bill_. Well, you may tell him the bargain's hoff, and if he wants his money, it's a waitin' of him round the corner. _James_. You little blackguard! Do you suppose a gen'leman's a goin' to deliver sich a message as that! Be off, you himp! (_Makes a dart at him_.) _Bill_ (_dodging him_). How d'e do, Clumsy? Don't touch me; I ain't nice. Why, what was you made for, Parrot? Is them calves your own rearin' now? Is that a quid or a fardin? Have a shot, now, Shins. _James_. None o' your imperence, young blackie! 'And me over the money, and I'll give it to the gen'leman. _Bill_. Do you see anything peticlar green in my eye, Rainbow? JAMES _makes a rush_. BILL _gets down before him_. JAMES _tumbles over him_. BILL _blacks his face with his brush_. _Bill_ (_running a little way_). Ha! ha! ha! Bill Shoeblack--his mark! Who's blackie now? You owes me a penny--twopence--'twor sich a ugly job! Ain't shiny? I'll come back and shine ye for another penny. Good mornin', Jim Crow! Take my adwice, and don't on no account apply your winegar afore you've opened your hoyster. Likeways: Butter don't melt on a cold tater. _Exit_. _Exit_ JAMES _into the house, banging the door_. _Enter_ WATERFIELD, _followed by BILL_. _Bill_. Please, sir, I been a watchin' for you. _Wat_. Go to the devil! _Bill_. I'd rayther not. So there's your suv'ring! _Wat_. Go along. Meet me where I told you.