e boy, "and bid me say you might come to him if you had aught to say to him."
"And what next?" said Lambourne.
"He read the letter, and seemed in a fluster, and asked if your worship was in drink; and I said you were speaking a little Spanish, as one who had been in the Canaries."
"Out, you diminutive pint-pot, whelped of an overgrown reckoning!" replied Lambourne--"out! But what said he then?"
"Why," said the boy, "he muttered that if he came not your worship would bolt out what were better kept in; and so he took his old flat cap, and threadbare blue cloak, and, as I said before, he will be here incontinent."
"There is truth in what he said," replied Lambourne, as if speaking to himself--"my brain has played me its old dog's trick. But corragio--let him approach!--I have not rolled about in the world for many a day to fear Tony Foster, be I drunk or sober.--Bring me a flagon of cold water to christen my sack withal."
While Lambourne, whom the approach of Foster seemed to have recalled to a sense of his own condition, was busied in preparing to receive him, Giles Gosling stole up to the apartment of the pedlar, whom he found traversing the room in much agitation.
"You withdrew yourself suddenly from the company," said the landlord to the guest.
"It was time, when the devil became one among you," replied the pedlar.
