We should begin, said my father, turning himself half round in bed, and shifting his pillow a little towards my mother's, as he opened the debate--We should begin to think, Mrs. Shandy, of putting this boy into breeches.--We should so,--said my mother.--We defer it, my dear, quoth my father, shamefully.--I think we do, Mr. Shandy,--said my mother.
--Not but the child looks extremely well, said my father, in his vests and tunicks.--He does look very well in them,--replied my mother.----And for that reason it would be almost a sin, added my father, to take him out of 'em.----It would so,--said my mother:--But indeed he is growing a very tall lad,--rejoined my father.
--He is very tall for his age, indeed,--said my mother.----I can not (making two syllables of it) imagine, quoth my father, who the deuce he takes after.--I cannot conceive, for my life, said my mother.--Humph!--said my father.
(The dialogue ceased for a moment.)
--(I am very short myself,--continued my father gravely.
You are very short, Mr Shandy,--said my mother.
Humph! quoth my father to himself, a second time: in muttering which, he plucked his pillow a little further from my mother's,--and turning about again, there was an end of the debate for three minutes and a half.
--When he gets these breeches made, cried my father in a higher tone, he'll look like a beast in 'em.
He will be very awkward in them at first, replied my mother.
--And 'twill be lucky, if that's the worst on't, added my father.
It will be very lucky, answered my mother.
I suppose, replied my father,--making some pause first,--he'll be exactly like other people's children.--Exactly, said my mother.--
--Though I shall be sorry for that, added my father: and so the debate stopp'd again.----They should be of leather, said my father, turning him about again.--They will last him, said my mother, the longest.
But he can have no linings to 'em, replied my father.--He cannot, said my mother.
'Twere better to have them of fustian, quoth my father.
Nothing can be better, quoth my mother.--
--Except dimity,--replied my father:--'Tis best of all,--replied my mother.
--One must not give him his death, however,--interrupted my father.
By no means, said my mother:--and so the dialogue stood still again.
I am resolved, however, quoth my father, breaking silence the fourth time, he shall have no pockets in them.----There is no occasion for any, said my mother.--I mean in his coat and waistcoat,--cried my father.
--I mean so too,--replied my mother.
--Though if he gets a gig or top--Poor souls! it is a crown and a sceptre to them,--they should have where to secure it.--Order it as you please, Mr. Shandy, replied my mother.----But don't you think it right? added my father, pressing the point home to her.
Perfectly, said my mother, if it pleases you, Mr. Shandy.----There's for you! cried my father, losing his temper--Pleases me!--You never will distinguish, Mrs. Shandy, nor shall I ever teach you to do it, betwixt a point of pleasure and a point of convenience.--This was on the Sunday night:--and further this chapter sayeth not.
