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"Bide an' listen, Natty Bell," said the ex-cha, John"

"Well then, you race brother

Torant ship--well, Natty

Bell, Tom has took an' died an' left a fortun' to our lad here"

"A fortun', John!--how much?"

"Seven--'undred--thousand--pound," said John, with a ponderous nod

after each word, "seven--'undred--thousand--pound, Natty Bell, and

there y' are"

Natty Bell opened his mouth, shut it, thrust his hands down into his

pockets and brought out a short clay pipe

"Man Jack," said he, beginning to fill the pipe, yet with gaze

abstracted, "did I hear you say aught about a--gentleman?"

"Natty Bell, you did; our lad's took the idee into his nob to be a

gentleain, but as it is

Natty Bell, I fear hed ponderously

"Why then, John, let's sit down, all three of us, and talk this

matter over"