all that indignation could by word or look urge against Mordicai, he replied, "May be 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 coachmaker, 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, and 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 re