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'Op off, 'ook it before I break every blessed bone in yer bloomin' body!" "What, Old Un, don't you know me, either?" "Lumme!" exclaimed the little old man, blinking beneath hoary brows. "Ho, lor' lumme, it's 'im! Blimy, it's the Guv'nor 'ow do, Guv!" and shooting immaculate cuffs over bony wrists he extended a clawlike hand. "How are you, Old Un?"
"Why, you old thievin' vagabone!" gasped Joe, as Ravenslee gravely handed over the money. "Vagabone yourself!" said the Old Un, counting the bills over in trembling fingers. "The Guv wants a bath take 'im away 'ook it, d'j 'ear?" "Has Patterson got everything ready, Joe?" enquired Ravenslee, taking up his clothes. "No, sir," mumbled Joe, "but I'll have ye bath ready in a jiffy, sir."
In this connection I cannot forbear relating my first experience with a boarding sea. "Look sharp or you'll get doused," was Mr. Mugridge's parting injunction, as I left the galley with a big tea-pot in one hand, and in the hollow of the other arm several loaves of fresh-baked bread. Wolf Larsen was on the poop, smoking his everlasting cigar. "'Ere she comes. Sling yer 'ook!" the cook cried.
Mona, my own love. Ook. Hark! Shut your obstropolos. Pflaap! Pflaap! Blaze on. There she goes. Brigade! Bout ship. Mount street way. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. You not come? Run, skelter, race. Pflaaaap! Lynch! Hey? Sign on long o' me. Denzille lane this way. Change here for Bawdyhouse. We two, she said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is. Righto, any old time. Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis.
"Yes," said Barnabas shivering, for the air struck chill and damp, "but what do we do now?" "V'y, sir, I'll tell you. Ve sit here, nice and qviet and let 'em run on till they meet my four specials and Corporal Richard Roe, late Grenadiers. My specials has their staves and knows how to use 'em, and the Corp has 's 'ook, and an 'ook ain't no-vise pleasant as a vepping.
"But whaur are ye for sae ear, Miss Elsie?" "I'm for the Muir o' Warlock, to see my sister, the schuilmaister's wife. Puir man! he's been ailin' ever sin' the spring. I little thoucht I was to hae sic guid company upo' the ro'd! Ye hae made an unco differ upo' my father, Mr. Warlock. I never saw man sae altert. In ae single ook!"
"You call her," suggested Babson, who had been watching the proceedings. "Come on, Lizzie! I won't hurt you!" called Joe. "Hook! Hook! Ook!" barked the seal. "Here, I think this will take her in," said Mr. Blossom. He tossed a fish into the tank, and, after a brief moment of hesitation, in flopped the seal. "Good!" cried Joe. Like a flash the seal swam for the fish, and ate it at a gulp.
The Humanitarian is that quite the correct word, by-the-by? must rejoice at the frequency of this result in angling. "The 'ook giv'," said Michael, returning disappointed. "Wot can you expect with inferior tarkle?"
It is needless perhaps to say that the man was Bozzle. "I dare say, Mr. Houthouse, you don't know me," said Bozzle. Mr. Outhouse, disdaining all complimentary language, said that he certainly did not. "My name, Mr. Houthouse, is Samuel Bozzle, and I live at No. 55, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough. I was in the Force once, but I work on my own 'ook now." "What do you want with me, Mr. Bozzle?"
Love, both rather confused and unhappy people, walked hand in hand a little way behind. "We needn't go as fur as the Cross'n Beetle, if we don't like," said Mrs. Love. "They'll never notice if we 'ook it." "I don't want to 'ook it," said Jay. "I want to keep very busy listening to noisy people. I don't want to hear myself think." "You're mopey, eh?" asked Mrs. Love gently. "I'm cold," said Jay.
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