"Nothing better."

"Pint of wine?"

"Why that would be too much--eh?"

"Not it."

"Go, then, my good Bunting; go and make haste--stop, I say that d--d
fellow--" "Good sign to swear," interrupted the Corporal; "swore twice
within last five minutes--famous symptom!"

"Do you choose to hear me? That d--d fellow, Fillgrave, is coming back in
an hour to bleed me: do you mount guard--refuse to let him in--pay him
his bill--you have the money. And harkye, don't be rude to the rascal."

"Rude, your honour! not I--been in the Forty-second--knows discipline--
only rude to the privates!"

The Corporal, having seen his master conduct himself respectably toward
the viands with which he supplied him--having set his room to rights,
brought him the candles, borrowed him a book, and left him for the
present in extremely good spirits, and prepared for the flight of the
morrow; the Corporal, I say, now lighting his pipe, stationed himself at
the door of the inn, and waited for Mr. Pertinax Fillgrave. Presently the
Doctor, who was a little thin man, came bustling across the street, and
was about, with a familiar "Good evening," to pass by the Corporal, when
that worthy, dropping his pipe, said respectfully, "Beg pardon, Sir--want
to speak to you--a little favour. Will your honour walk in the back-
parlour?"