wring his digits, that, fearful of losing either his bed or his
friends, he besought Green to step on to the "White Hart" and see about
accommodation. Accordingly Green ran his fingers through the bushy
sides of his yellow wig, jerked up his gills, and with a _négligé_ air
strutted up to that inn, which, as all frequenters of Margate know,
stands near the landing-place, and commands a fine view of the harbour.
Mr. Creed, the landlord, was airing himself at the door, or, as
Shakespeare has it, "taking his ease at his inn," and knowing Green of
old to be a most unprofitable customer, he did not trouble to move
his position farther than just to draw up one leg so as not wholly to
obstruct the passage, and looked at him as much as to say "I prefer your
room to your company." "Quite full here, sir," said he, anticipating
Green's question. "Full, indeed?" replied Jemmy, pulling up his
gills--"that's werry awkward, Mr. Jorrocks has come down with myself and
a friend, and we want accommodation." "Mr. Jorrocks, indeed!" replied
Mr. Creed, altering his tone and manner; "I'm sure I shall be delighted
to receive Mr. Jorrocks--he's one of the oldest customers I have--and
one of the best--none of your 'glass of water and toothpick'
gentleman--real downright, black-strap man, likes it hot and strong from
the wood--always pays like a gentleman--never fights about three-pences,
like some people I know," looking at Jemmy. "Pray, what rooms may you
require?" "Vy, there's myself, Mr. Jorrocks, and Mr. Jorrocks's other
friend--three in all, and we shall want three good, hairy bedrooms."
"Well, I don't know," replied Mr. Creed, laughing, "about their
hairiness, but I can rub them with bear's grease for you." Jemmy pulled
up his gills and was about to reply, when Mr. Jorrocks's appearance
interrupted the dialogue. Mr. Creed advanced to receive him, blowing up
his porters for not having been down to carry up the hamper, which he
took himself and bore to the coffee-room, amid protestations of his
delight at seeing his worthy visitor.