"
"Tare-an-ounty, Hycy, she's dog chape--thirty-five!--why she's value for
double the sum."
"Nearly," replied Hycy, quite elevated and; getting into good humor; "is
she not really now, father, a precious bit of flesh?"
"Ah! you may swear that, Hycy; I tell you you won't act the honest man,
if you don't give him fifteen or twenty pounds over an' above what you
paid him. Tom Burton I see's too simple for you. Go and do what I bid
you; don't defraud the poor man; you have got a treasure, I tell you--a
beauty bright--an extraordinary baste--a wonderful animal--oh, dear me!
what a great purchase! Good-bye, Hycy. Bless my sowl! what a judge of
horseflesh you are!"
Having uttered these words in a tone of grave and caustic irony, he left
his worthy son in a state of chagrin almost bordering on resentment, at
the strong contempt for Crazy-Jane, implied by the excessive eulogium
he had passed upon her. This feeling, however, was on reflection
considerably checked by his satisfaction on finding that the matter was
taken by his father so coolly. He had calculated on receiving a very
stormy lecture from him the moment he should become aware of his having
the animal in his possession; and he now felt rather relieved that
he should have escaped so easily. Be this as it may, Hycy was now in
excellent spirits.
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