“That’s the ‘ Dead March ’ in Saul . They bury soldiers to it, so it’s the natural end of the subject. Now, if your pretty granddaughter⁠—excuse me, miss⁠—will condescend to take care of this pipe for two months, we shall save the cost of one next time. Good evening, Mr. Smallweed!”

“My dear friend!” the old man gives him both his hands.

“So you think your friend in the city will be hard upon me if I fall in a payment?” says the trooper, looking down upon him like a giant.

“My dear friend, I am afraid he will,” returns the old man, looking up at him like a pygmy.