"What now?" enquired my companion, for I had halted. "What is it,
Peregrine?"
"The beer!" said I.
"Where, man, where?"
"Yonder!" and I pointed to the sign. "Did ever eyes behold beer so
preternaturally frothy?"
"Of course not, Perry my lad, because reality is never so perfect as
the dream! The cove who painted that was damnably dry, perishing of a
noble thirst, not a doubt of it, and being a true artist he painted it
all in--egad, there's thirst in every inch of that foam--it's a
masterpiece!"
"It's a daub--and a bad one!" said I. "Indeed, on closer inspection
the foam looks very like cheese!"
"Excellent--the poor painting-cove was hungry also, and there you are!
I'd hang that thing in my dining room (supposing I had one) to get me
an appetite--it's made me hungry already and as for the thirst--Oh,
confound it--come on--"
"By no means!" said I resolutely. "Here is a cosy inn; here will we
eat and sleep--"
"At your expense? Curse me, no, Peregrine."
"Damme, yes, Anthony."
"I say positively I'll not--"
"Look at that cheese-like foam, Anthony!"
"Curse your pitiful eighteen pounds!"
"A dinner, a glass and a downy bed with sheets, Anthony!"
"Remember I'm a man of astonishing determination, Peregrine!"
"Forget your ridiculous pride, Anthony!"
"Ha--ridiculous, d'ye say, sir?"
"And utterly preposterous, sir!"
"Preposterous! By heaven!" he exclaimed, cocking the battered hat very
ferociously over one eye.
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