gal." So off he ran hot-foot, to get an earnest of the blessing of his
crock of gold.

The minute that was promised to produce the stingo, proved to be rather
of a lengthened character; it might, indeed, have been a minute, or the
fraction of one, in the planet Herschel, whose year is as long as
eighty-five of our Terra's, but according to Greenwich calculation, it
was nearer like two hours.

The little Tom and Jerry shop, that rejoiced in the classical heraldry
of Bacchus's Arms, had been startled from all conventionalities by the
unwonted event of the demand, "change for a sovereign?" and when it was
made known to the assembled conclave that Roger Acton was the fortunate
possessor, that even assumed an appearance positively miraculous.

"Why, honest Roger, how in the world could you ha' come by that?" was
the troublesome inquiry of Dick the Tanner.

"Well, Acton, you're sharper than I took you for, if you can squeeze
gold out of bailiff Jennings," added Solomon Snip; and Roger knew no
better way of silencing their tongues, than by profusely drenching them
in liquor. So he stood treat all round, and was forced to hobanob with
each; and when that was gone, he called for more to keep their curiosity
employed. Now, all this caused delay; and if Mary had been waiting for
the "stingo," she would doubtless have had reasonable cause for anger
and impatience: however, she, for her part, was so pleasantly occupied,
like Prince Arthur's Queen, in counting out the money, that, to say the
truth, both lord and liquor were entirely forgotten.

But another cause that lengthened out the minute, was the embarrassing