"No, I ain't troubled you."

"Oh, no! You was so glad to let me take your nice dry boots, you was, when mine was filled with water."

The slow, mild, ostensibly patient voice could be none other than
Kipping's.

"I had to wear 'em myself."

"Oh, had to wear 'em yourself, did you?"

"Let go o' my arm!"

"So?"

"Let go, I tell you; let go or I'll—I swear I'll hammer you good."

"Oh, you'll hammer me good, will you?"

"Let go!"