“Sir, awe you aware, sir, that there may be English gentlemen present who may take—aw—exceptions to your langwage? Such remarks awe of an insulting ordah, don’t yer ’now. You may-aw—get youahself into a blooming bit of trouble by such langwage.”
The individual who said this was young in years, with a light-draft mustache, an eyeglass and the dress of an English tourist. He paused near the table and surveyed the boys with an aggravating stare. He was a rather well-built young fellow, but there was a decidedly vapid expression on his face.
The moment Frank saw this person he decided it was not their first meeting. The face was familiar.
There was an unoccupied chair at the table, and, with insolent coolness, the stranger appropriated it.
“Wal, gol dern my eyes!” spluttered Ephraim. “Fer a crust that beoats anything I ever struck!”
“Aw!” drawled the stranger, “I wish to give you some advice, don’t yer ’now.”
“Wal, jest yeou save it for them that wants it, mister.”
“Verwy rude, cwecher,” said the unknown, screwing the single-barreled eyeglass into his eye and surveying Ephraim. “I wondah why they don’t keep such things in America. By Jawve! it is a genuwine cuwieosity.”
“Darn my punkins!” exploded the boy from Vermont. “Yeou’re a freak, that’s what yeou be!”
“Sir, this may lead to—a—aw—challenge.”