On this, Landlady Birch intervened, taking the bar-room in her way from the parlor to the kitchen. "What is that you say, Frank? The gentleman can have as good a breakfast here as he can have anywhere out of Boston, I'm sure, though I say it myself. We don't have so many to cook for, and so, perhaps, we take a little more pains, Sir,--ha! ha!" And with that good Mrs. Birch put on a graciousness of smile worthy of the most experienced female Boniface in Anglo-Saxondom. "The gentleman don't want any breakfast, mother; he only wants a ride round to Captain Grant's, and he ha'n't got the manners to ask for it, like a gentleman;--he _must_ have it. I say he mus'n't in my buggy, for I a'n't goin' that way." "Why, son, the gentleman of course expects to pay for it." "Yes, Madam," said Chip, "I am willing and expect to bleed freely." _Frank_. "Well, I should like to know what you mean by that? _I_ don't want your blood, or that of any other Boston squirt." _Mrs. Birch (to Chip, after a reproving glance at Frank)_. "I think we can accommodate you, Sir. The buggy is at the blacksmith's, and will be done in half-an-hour. If you want, you can have breakfast while you are waiting; and you will find a comfortable fire in the parlor to sit by, at any rate." With this, Mrs. Birch made her exit, to hurry matters on the cook-stove. "There! that's her, all over!" grumbled Frank. "If she can sell a meal of victuals, she don't care what becomes of me. But I'll let her know the mare's mine, and the buggy's mine, all but the harness; and I tell _you_, Sir, I'll see the mare drowned in Charles River and the buggy split into kindling-wood, before you shall have a ride to Captain Grant's this day." "But here's a five-dollar-bill," quoth Chip, displaying a small handful of banknotes. _Frank_. "You may go to thunder with the whole of 'em! I tell you I've set my foot down, and I won't take it up for my own mother,--and I'm sure I won't for anything that ever was or will be under your clo'es."