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Sally turned to Muriel Barrett, who worked next to her. "Who's he?" she asked, indicating the stranger. "That's Bertram ... Madame's son. Mr. Merrick, his real name is. But we call him Gaga." "Wodjer call him that for?" asked Sally. "Isn't he right in his head?" "Oo, well one of the gels she's gone now, Mary Smith, made it up. She said he was Mr. Gala, you know.
After this, climbing up the bobstay, he regained the deck, and proceeded to dry his hairy frame on an ancient flannel shirt. In the midst of this occupation, temporarily forgetful of his superior officer's prejudices, he broke into song. Thirty seconds after he had let go the first howl, the Skipper's head was thrust up the companion-way. "Wodjer want to make all that row about?
There are you, growin' middle-aged and not married to some good-'earted chap as 'd give you three-four children I could pet in me old age. Wodjer want to go fallin' in love with some chap as 'as got a wife already? I know your principles. There's iron in yer blood, same as there is in that proud priest, your father. I know you'd break your 'eart sooner 'n have a good time with the professor. My!
Cap'n Pigg was not easily disconcerted, but this ghostly "Ha! Ha! Ha!" was a distinct trial to his nerves; he thrust his hands deep into his coat pockets, glared at the mate, and then growled: "Wodjer got there? More 'armony?" "Grammarphone," was the mate's brief reply. He was getting sulky. "Grammar be blowed! Worst grammar I ever 'eard," returned Pigg.
I thought you wouldn't come!" whispered Sally. "Oh, Toby, I thought you'd never come!" She was hysterical in her joy. "Course I come!" exclaimed Toby. "Wodjer take me for?" "Well, I didn't know." Sally was quite unguarded. "Thought you might have...." She checked herself. Her body was shaken with a little thrill of laughter laughter of silly joy. She hugged him closer.
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