"Fat, am I?" demanded Joe, scowling.
"Fat as a 'og--fat as forty bloomin' 'ogs!" cried the old man
vindictively. "An' what's more, your wind's all gone--you couldn't go
five rounds wi' a good 'un!"
"Couldn't I?"
"No!" shrieked the Old Un, "you'd be 'anging on an' blowing like a
grampus!"
"Should I?"
"Ah--like a grampus!"
"Right-o!" nodded Joe, turning away, "no jam for _your_ tea to-night."
"Eh, what--what, would ye rob a pore old man of 'is jam, Joe--a pore
afflicted old cove as is dependent on ye 'and an' fut, Joe--a pore old
gaffer as you've just shook up to that degree as 'is pore old liver is
a-bobbin' about in 'is innards like a jelly. Joe, ye couldn't be so
'eartless!"
"Ah, but I can!" nodded Joe. "An' if ye give me any more lip, it'll be
no sugar in ye tea--"
"No sugar!" wailed the Old Un, then clenching a trembling old fist, he
shook it in Joe's scowling face. "Then dang ye--three times!" he cried.
"What's the old song say?
"'Dang the man with three times three
Who in 'is 'eathen rage
Can 'arm a 'armless man like me
Who's 'ead is bowed wi' age!'
"An' there's for ye.
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