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"Yer said, Pop, as it was a tortus," murmured the bashful Hop, who had sheltered himself behind Pop. "A tortus, that's it. A tortus, and Hop and I's found it, sir. We've got it here." "You're wrong. My cat's not a tortoise," I replied. "Bless you, we know that, guv'nor. Just as if we didn't know Peter! Ah! Peter was a cat as wants a lot of replacin', Peter does.
But me and Hop's got a tortus as is a wunner, guv'nor. A heap better nor Peter. Poor old Peter! he's dead and gone. Be sure of that. This 'ere's a reg'lar bad road. A prize-winner, warn't 'e, Hoppy?" They held up the prize-winner, who was not a tortoise, and was mangy. "Look here, my boys, you can take her away. Now, be off. Quick march!" "Yer don't want it, guv'nor. Jest think agin.
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