“Wot?”
“I hate to ask it, but would you mind lending me the price of a ticket for Pine Run?” he said, falteringly.
“Me?” shrilled Josiah Graham. “Not much I won’t! You go an’ earn your money, young man. Serves you right if you are out o’ pocket an’ ain’t got a cent.”
“Then you won’t—er—even give me the price of a—er—a dinner?”
“Not a cent! You don’t deserve it. I see how it is,” went on Josiah Graham, craftily. “Thet man who owns the ship has got sick o’ you an’ Andy, too, an’ don’t want nuthin’ more to do with yer! Well, I don’t blame him. Now ye can both go back to Pine Run an’ go to work.”
“How can a fellow get back if he hasn’t the price of a ticket?” asked Chet, in a hopeless fashion, although he could scarcely keep from laughing.
“Go to work an’ earn money, I tell yer! I have to do it, an’ you ain’t no better nor I be.”
“Have you been working?”
“O’ course I’ve been working.”
“Then you won’t even give me ten cents for some bread and coffee?”