in the Funns, or where are you? Have you lately come to settle in this neighbourhood, or do you own to another neighbourhood? Are you in independent circumstances, or is it wasting the motions of a bow on you? Come! I’ll speculate! I’ll invest a bow in you.”
Which Mr. Wegg, having replaced his tin box, accordingly did, as he rose to bait his gingerbread-trap for some other devoted infant. The salute was acknowledged with:
“Morning, sir! Morning! Morning!”
(“Calls me Sir!” said Mr. Wegg, to himself. “ He won’t answer. A bow gone!”)
“Morning, morning, morning!”
“Appears to be rather a ’arty old cock, too,” said Mr. Wegg, as before; “Good morning to you , sir.”
“Do you remember me, then?” asked his new acquaintance, stopping in his amble, one-sided, before the stall, and speaking in a pounding way, though with great good-humour.