Lord Colambre was so much struck with this strange physiognomy, that he actually forgot much he had to say of springs and wheels.

But it was no matter.

Whatever he had said, it would have come to the same thing; and Mordicai would have answered as he now did-- 'Sir, it was my partner made that bargain, not myself; and I don't hold myself bound by it, for he is the sleeping-partner only, and not empowered to act in the way of business.

Had Mr.Berryl bargained with me, I should have told him that he should have looked to these things before his carriage went out of our yard.' The indignation of Lord Colambre kindled at these words--but in vain.
To all that indignation could by word or look urge against Mordicai, he replied-- 'Maybe so, sir; the law is open to your friend--the law is open to all men who can pay for it.' Lord Colambre turned in despair from the callous coach-maker, and listened to one of his more compassionate-looking workmen, who was reviewing the disabled curricle; and, whilst he was waiting to know the sum of his friend's misfortune, a fat, jolly, Falstaff looking personage came into the yard, accosted Mordicai with a degree of familiarity, which, from a gentleman, appeared to Lord Colambre to be almost impossible.
'How are you, Mordicai, my good fellow ?' cried he, speaking with a strong Irish accent.
'Who is this ?' whispered Lord Colambre to the foreman, who was examining the curricle.
'Sir Terence O'Fay, sir.

There must be entire new wheels.' 'Now tell me, my tight fellow,' continued Sir Terence, holding Mordicai fast, 'when, in the name of all the saints, good or bad, in the calendar, do you reckon to let us sport the SUICIDE ?' Mordicai forcibly drew his mouth into what he meant for a smile, and answered, 'As soon as possible, Sir Terence.' Sir Terence, in a tone of jocose, wheedling expostulation, entreated him to have the carriage finished OUT OF HAND.