Hiram drew back a little in surprise. He gazed at the gorgeous young lady who pulled the handle of the beer-engine (of course he had never seen a woman serving drink before), and then he glanced inquiringly at Sam Churchill. Do tell me, he whispered in an awe-struck undertone; is that a barmaid? Sam hardly took in the point of the question for the moment, it seemed so natural to him to see a girl drawing beer at an English refreshment-room, though in the land of his adoption that function is always performed by a male attendant, known as a saloon-keeper; but he answered unconcernedly: Well, yes, shes about that, I reckon, though I dare say she wouldnt admire at you to call her so. Hiram looked with all his eyes agog upon the gorgeous young lady. Well, he said slowly, half to himself, thats just charming. A barmaid! Why its exactly the same as if it were in Tom Jones or Roderick Random.
Sam Churchills good-humoured face expanded slowly into a broad smile. That was a picturesque point of view of barmaids which he had never before conceived as possible Whatll you take, Hiram? he asked. This is a pork-pie here; will you try it?
A pork-pie! Hiram cried, enchanted.
A pork-pie! You dont mean to say so! Will I try it? I should think I would, rather. Why, you know, Sam, one reads about pork-pies in Dickens!