Old Lord Bareacres, as stiff as a poaker, as prowd as loosyfer, as poor as Joab--even he condysends to be sivvle to the great De la Pluche, and begged me at Harthur's, lately, in his sollom, pompus way, 'to faver him with five minutes' conversation.' I knew what was coming--application for shares--put him down on my private list.

Would'nt mind the Scrag End Junction passing through Bareacres--hoped I'd come down and shoot there.
"I gave the old humbugg a few shares out of my own pocket.

'There, old Pride,' says I, 'I like to see you down on your knees to a footman.
There, old Pompossaty! Take fifty pound; I like to see you come cringing and begging for it.' Whenever I see him in a VERY public place, I take my change for my money.

I digg him in the ribbs, or slap his padded old shoulders.

I call him, 'Bareacres, my old buck!' and I see him wince.