I
recollect the scoundrel now: he was a second in a duel I had here
in the year six."
"Along with Major Wood, behind Montague House," said Mr. Billings.
"I'VE heard on it." And here he looked more knowing than ever.
"YOU!" cried the Count, more and more surprised. "And pray who the
devil ARE you?"
"My name's Billings."
"Billings?" said the Count.
"I come out of Warwickshire," said Mr. Billings.
"Indeed!"
"I was born at Birmingham town."
"Were you, really!"
"My mother's name was Hayes," continued Billings, in a solemn voice.
"I was put out to a nurse along with John Billings, a blacksmith;
and my father run away. NOW do you know who I am?"
"Why, upon honour, now," said the Count, who was amused,--"upon
honour, Mr. Billings, I have not that advantage."
"Well, then, my Lord, YOU'RE MY FATHER!"
Mr. Billings when he said this came forward to the Count with a
theatrical air; and, flinging down the breeches of which he was the
bearer, held out his arms and stared, having very little doubt but
that his Lordship would forthwith spring out of bed and hug him to
his heart. A similar piece of naivete many fathers of families
have, I have no doubt, remarked in their children; who, not caring
for their parents a single doit, conceive, nevertheless, that the
latter are bound to show all sorts of affection for them.
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