“Sure, beef.”
“And flounders is always fish, hain’t they?”
“Yes, but whales hain’t.”
“Here’s what I’m gittin’ at. Everythin’ is what it is, hain’t it?”
“To be sure.”
“Then,” says Naboth, kind of scornful, “boys is always nuisances. Guess that proves it so’s even you kin see it.”
Rameses III kind of scratched his head like he was almost convinced, or anyhow, like he couldn’t see any way out of Naboth’s argument. He acted like he could see Naboth had made a point, and it was a hard point, and one that not many people could jump over or walk around. He acted as if Naboth had handed out a regular clincher, and Naboth acted so, too. Why, he just sat back and puffed his pipe, and swelled all up with pride, and winked at Tom, and grinned superior at Rameses III. He was so proud of himself he was like to bust.
But all at once Rameses III kind of got his second wind and he leaned forward and sailed in and before he got through with it, Naboth was going down for the third time, and Rameses had hammered over a clincher.
“Listen,” says he. “Ships hain’t railroad trains, be they?”
“No.”