“He says he has got no children,” said Johnson, having received a reply, “and that as he has nobody but himself to look after, he is able to allow himself such little luxuries.”
“Tell him that I say he would be better with a wife and couple of babies,” said I—and Johnson interpreted.
“He says that he’ll think of it some of these days, when he finds that the supply of fools in the world is becoming short,” said Johnson.
We had nearly done with him now; but after regaining my feet, I addressed myself once more to the heavy pendules, which hung down almost under his arm. I lifted one of these, meaning to feel its weight between my fingers; but unfortunately I gave a lurch, probably through the motion of the boat, and still holding by the button, tore it almost off from our friend’s coat.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” I said, in broad English.
“It do not matter at all,” he said, bowing, and speaking with equal plainness. And then, taking a knife from his pocket, he cut the pendule off, leaving a bit of torn cloth on the side of his jacket.
“Upon my word, I am quite unhappy,” said I; “but I always am so awkward.” Whereupon he bowed low.
“Couldn’t I make it right?” said I, bringing out my purse.
He lifted his hand, and I saw that it was small and white; he lifted it and gently put it upon my purse, smiling sweetly as he did so. “Thank you, no, señor; thank you, no.” And then, bowing to us both, he walked away down into the cabin.
“Upon my word he is a deuced well-mannered fellow,” said I.