of your own
conception?" Thus the dispute began, and was maintained with great
vehemence, until other arguments failing, the squire offered to lay a
wager of twenty guineas. To this proposal, Dawdle answered by the
interjection pish! which inflamed Sycamore to a repetition of the
defiance. "You are in the right," said Dawdle, "to use such an argument
as you know is by me unanswerable. A wager of twenty guineas will at any
time overthrow and confute all the logic of the most able syllogist, who
has not got a shilling in his pocket."

Sycamore looked very grave at this declaration, and, after a short pause,
said, "I wonder, Dawdle, what you do with all your money?"--"I am
surprised you should give yourself that trouble--I never ask what you do
with yours."--"You have no occasion to ask; you know pretty well how it
goes."--"What, do you upbraid me with your favours?--'t is mighty well,
Sycamore."--"Nay, Dawdle, I did not intend to affront."--"Z----s!
affront! what d'ye mean?" "I'll assure you, Davy, you don't know me, if
you think I could be so ungenerous as to--a--to----"--"I always thought,
whatever faults or foibles you might have, Sycamore, that you was not
deficient in generosity,--though to be sure it is often very absurdly
displayed."--"Ay, that's one of my greatest foibles; I can't refuse even
a scoundrel, when I think he is in want.--Here, Dawdle, take that note."
--"Not I, sir,--what d'ye mean?--what right have I to your notes?"
--"Nay, but Dawdle,--come."--"By no means; it looks like the abuse of
good-nature;--all the world knows you're good-natured to a fault."
--"Come, dear Davy, you shall--you must oblige me."--Thus urged, Dawdle
accepted the bank-note with great reluctance, and restored the idea to
the right owner.

A suit of armour being brought from the garret or armoury of his
ancestors, he gave orders for having the pieces scoured and furbished up;
and his heart dilated with joy, when he reflected upon the superb figure
he should make when cased in complete steel, and armed at all points for
the combat.

When he was fitted with the other parts, Dawdle insisted on buckling on
his helmet, which weighed fifteen pounds; and, the headpiece being
adjusted, made such a clatter about his ears with a cudgel, that his eyes
had almost started from their sockets. His voice was lost within the
vizor, and his friend affected not to understand his meaning when he made
signs with his gauntlets, and endeavoured