sufferer. “Well, I’m not, boy, not a bit. There.”
“Let me send for a doctor, sir,” said the dealer.
“I tell you I will not, man. Do you take me for a Greek or a Turk, or a heretic? Can’t you see that I am an Englishman, sir, one who is never beaten, and never gives up? There, go on selling your guns.”
“Oh, nonsense!” said the professor; “we cannot think of such things with you in that state.”
“State? What state, sir? Here you, Mr. What’s-your-name, I beg your pardon. I ought to have known better. Not used to guns. Pens are more in my way. Confoundedly stupid thing to do. But I’ve learned more about a gun now than I should have learned in six months. I beg your pardon, sir.”
“Pray, say no more, sir,” replied the dealer; “it is not needed.”
“Yes, it is, sir,” cried the lawyer fiercely. “Didn’t I tell you I was an English gentleman. An English gentleman always apologises when he is in the wrong. I apologise. I am very sorry for what I said.”
The dealer smiled and bowed, and looked pleased as he handed the sufferer another glass of wine, which was taken and sipped at intervals between a few mild ohs! and ssfths!
“Not a bad wine this. What is it?”
“One of the Greek wines, sir.”
“Humph! not bad; but not like our port. Now, you people, go on with your business, and don’t stare at me as if I were a sick man. Here, Mr. What’s-your-name, put that gun in a case, and send it round to the hotel. I’ve taken a fancy to it.”
“Send—this gun, sir?”
“Yes. Didn’t I speak plainly? Didn’t the professor, my friend here, say it was a good gun?”
“Yes, sir, yes: it is an excellent piece of the best English make.”
“Well, I want a gun, and I suppose any piece would go off as that did if somebody handled it as stupidly as I did.”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
“Then send it on, and the pistol too. Ah, that’s better—I’m easier; but I say, Preston, I shall have to be carried back.”
“I’m very glad you are easier, but really if I were you I would see a doctor.”
“I’ve no objection to seeing a doctor, my dear sir, but I’m not going to have him do anything to me.”
“Then you really wish us to go on with our purchases?”
“Why, of course, man, of course. What did we come for? Go on, man, go on. Here, mister, show me one or two of these long carving knives.”
“Carving knives?” said the dealer. “I do not keep them.”
“Yes, you do: these,” said Mr. Burne, pointing to a case in which were several Eastern sabres.
“Oh, the swords!” said the dealer smiling. “Of course.”
“You are not going to buy one of these, are you, Mr. Burne?” said Lawrence eagerly.
“To be sure I am,” was the reply. “Why shouldn’t I play at soldiers if I like. There, what do you say to that?” he continued, drawing a light, keen-looking blade from its curved sheath. “Try it. Mind it don’t go off—I mean, don’t go slashing it round and cutting off the professor’s legs or my head. Can you lift it?”
“Oh, yes,” cried Lawrence, poising the keen weapon in his hand before examining its handsome silver inlaid hilt.
“Think that would do for me? Oh, dear me, what a twinge!”
“Yes, sir, admirably,” replied Lawrence.
“Then I don’t,” was the gruff retort. “Seems to me that it would just suit you. There, buckle on the belt.”
Lawrence did as he was told, but the belt was too large and had to be reduced.
“Hah! that’s better,” said Mr. Burne. “There, that’s a very handsome sword, Lawrence, and it will do to make you look fierce when we are in the country, and to hang up in your room at home to keep in memory of our journey. Will you accept it, my boy, as a present?”
“Oh, thank you,” cried the lad excitedly.
“Took a fancy to it as soon as you saw it, you young dog. I saw you!” cried the old lawyer chuckling. “There, now for a dagger or knife to go with it.”
The dealer produced one in an ornamental sheath directly, and explained that it was for use as a weapon, for hunting, or to divide food when on a journey.
“That will do, then, nicely. There, my boy, these are my presents. Now, Preston, I suppose we must each have one of these long choppers?”
“Yes, I think so,” replied the professor. “They will make us look more formidable.”
“Very well, then: choose one for me too, but I warn you, I shall fasten mine down in the sheath with gum. I’m not going to take mine out, for fear of cutting off somebody’s legs or wings, or perhaps my own.”
“You feel better now?” said the professor.
“Hold your tongue, sir—do! No: I don’t feel better. I had forgotten my pain, but now you’ve made me think about it again. There!—choose two swords and knives and let’s get back.”
Two plain useful sabres were selected, and the dealer received his orders to send the weapons to the hotel, after which the injured man was helped into a standing position, but not without the utterance of several groans. Then he was walked up and down the shop several times, ending by declaring himself much better.
“There, Lawrence!” he cried, “that’s the advantage of being an Englishman. Now, if I had been a Dutchman or a Frenchman I should have had myself carried back, sent for a couple of doctors, and been very bad for a month or two; but you see I’m better already, and I’m not going to give up to please the Grand Panjandrum himself. Dear me! bless my heart! panjandrum! Pan—pan—pan—jan—jan—jan—drum! Where did I hear that word?”
“In a sort of nursery ditty, sir,” said Lawrence laughing.
“To be sure I did,” cried the old man, “and I had forgotten it; but I say, don’t laugh like that, boy.”
“Why not, sir?”
“Because it will make us believe that you have been shamming all this time, and that you’re really quite well, thank you, sir!—eh?”
“I—I think I am better,” said Lawrence quickly. “I don’t know why, but I have not been thinking about being ill these last few days, everything is so bright and sunshiny here, you see.”
“Yes, I see,” said the old lawyer, giving the professor a peculiar look; and they went back to the hotel.
