"Wal, what on it?" sez I.
"You are impertinent," sez he.
"Wal, now I reckon that aint what I was baptized. I'll tell you what, Mr. Hair-lip, I haint a going to let you nor any body else call me names," sez I, a taking both hands out of my trousers pockets, and a pulling up my yaller gloves, as spiteful as could be, jest to show him that my mawlers were fit for use.
The feller's lips began to grow white, but he twisted them up as if he wanted to make me think he didn't care for what I said.
"Sare," sez he, "do you know whom you are speaking to?"
"Wal," sez I, larfin in his face a leetle, "I ruther guess I du, though I haint just made up my mind what kind of horned cattle you call yourself yit: they give all sich stranger-critters a name, and I s'pose you'll git one by-am-by, as well as the rest on 'em."
With that he turned as white as a tub of curd, and sez he—
"This is too much, sare; remember you are speaking to a Count." Here he out with a name as long and crooked as a sassafras root.
"You don't say so!" sez I.
"I'm a nobleman!" sez he, and he was a going on to give me another string of foreign jaw-breakers; but I jest sot down my foot, and sez I,