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"Then dang ye--twice!"
"An' s'posin' I did?"
"Then--give it 'ere!"
"An' that's his gratitood, sir!" growled Joe, shaking his head and
giving the packet into the old man's clutching fingers. "A unnat'ral old
bag-o'-bones, that's what 'e is, sir!"
"Bones!" croaked the Old Un viciously. "Bag-o'-bones am I? Yah--look at
ye'self--pork, that's what you are, all run to pork an' blubber an' fat,
Joe, me pore lad--"
"Fat!" growled Joe. "Y' know I ain't fat; y' know I'm as good a man as
ever I was--look at that, you old sarpent!" And he smote himself with
mighty fist--a blow to fell an ox. "Fat, am I?"
"As--lard!" nodded the old man, filling half an inch of blackened clay
pipe with trembling fingers, "as a 'og--"
"Now my crumbs--" began Joe fiercely.
"You're flabby an' soft, me pore lad," grinned the old man. "Flabby as a
babby an' soft as a woman an' fat as a--"
Joe reached out very suddenly, and picking up the old man, armchair and
all, shook him to and fro until he croaked for mercy.
"Lor' gorramighty!" he panted, as Joe set him down again.


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