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My wife tol' me zuzzer day she saw piece Crown Derby 'n' fainted dead way, 'n' r'fused t' come to f'r half 'n hour. I said I'd give ton er Crown Derby for bashket champagne 'n' she didn't speak to me rester 'zhe week. Jush shows how shum people " "Nein!" "Eh?" "It vasn't shina." "By zhove, you 'rouse my cur'os'ty, Woffski. If 'tain't picshur er piece pottery, wha' deuce is't?" "You shall see."
They had now reached Twenty-third Street, and following his companion's lead, O'Royster crossed unsteadily into Madison Square and through one of the park walks. Presently he halted. "By zhe way, Woffski," he said, "do you know where we're goin'?" "Yah." "Well, zat's what I call lucky. I'm free t' confesh I haven't gotter shingle idea. But 'f you know, 's all right.
I am, an' didn't know but what you might be same way. You may've noticed 't I'm jush trifle er, well, some people ud shay zhrunk, Toffski rude 'n' dish'gree'ble people dshay zhrunk. P'raps zere 'bout half right, Woffski, but it's zhrude way of putting it. Now, zhen, I want t'ask you queshun.
A mighty uproar arose at these gory suggestions, and would not be subdued until all the glasses had been refilled and the enthusiasm that had been aroused was quenched in beer. Mr. O'Royster had listened to these proceedings with some misgivings. He turned to his companion, who stood solemn and silent by his side, and observed: "D' I unnerstan' you t' say, Woffski, 't you 's goin' home?" "Yah."
"Zere's no great sorrer gnawin' chure vitals, is zere, Moffski?" "I vas all ride." "Not sufferin' f'om any mad r'gret, 'r misplaced love, 'rensing zat kind, eh, Woffski?" "No." "Feeling jush sames' ushyal?" "Yah." "Zen 'sall right. Don't 'pol'gize, 's all right. Zere was somepin' 'n you're looksh made me shink p'raps yu's feeling trifle in'sposed.
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