"She'd have had five thousand."
"You've no idea what it costs to go travelling about. A miserable stay-at-home like you."
At this Doffen grew angry in earnest, and slammed down the lid of his desk, making the ink-stands fairly dance.
"Well, of all the.... First of all I do my very utmost to save you from being ruined by your illegitimate offspring, then I manage to get her away in a decent, respectable manner—you ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself, if you ask me."
The Admiral looked round as if in search of something.
"What the devil have you done with that Directory?" he said at last.
"Oho! Perhaps you'd like to be had up for another attempted manslaughter, what?"
"Not a bit of it. But there's a reward for extermination of rats and other mischievous beasts."
Here the discussion was interrupted by the entrance of Ferryman Arne, who just looked in to ask if the Admiral hadn't an old pair of breeches to give away, as the seat was all out of the ones he was wearing. The Admiral never refused. He went to a wardrobe, routed out an old pair and gave them to Arne. The latter examined them carefully, front and back, but instead of saying thank you, he rudely declared that if the Admiral wanted to give a poor man something to wear, he might at least give him something that wasn't falling to bits already.
This led to a most satisfactory battle-royal between Arne and the Admiral, each trying to outdo the other in lurid pigeon-English—a tongue which both of them spoke fluently, Arne having been twelve years in the China Seas.