Thrice, may be.
Fath. Thrice, may be! Twenty times, may be; and not a turn too
many, for the truth on't. Twenty times, on the oath of the
sempstress. Now mark me--can you count?
Thos. After a fashion.
Fath. You have much to be thankful for, Master Thomas. You London
serving-men have a world of things, which we in the country never
dream of. Now mark:- Four times took I it back for the flounce;
twice for the sleeves; three for the tucker--How many times in all
is that?
Thos. Eight times to a fraction, Master Fathom.
Fath. What a master of figures you are! Eight times--now recollect
that! And then found she fault with the trimmings. Now tell me,
how many times took I back the gown for the trimmings?
Thos. Eight times more, perhaps!
Fath. Ten times to a certainty. How many times makes that?
Thos. Eighteen, Master Fathom, by the rule of addition.
Fath. And how many times more will make twenty?
Thee. Twice, by the same rule.
Fath. Thou hast worked with thy pencil and slate, Master Thomas!
Well, ten times, as I said, took I back the gown for the trimmings;
and was she content after all? I warrant you no, or my ears did not
pay for it.
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