But the huge Pompous, though deeply impressed by his words and manner, was not influenced in the direction Hanson wished. On the contrary, Pompous drew himself up and pushed himself out with solemn dignity, and answered with contemptuous indignation:
“Yo-o-o? Now, sah, yo’ is offen yo’ head.”
“Go, and open the door for me!” exclaimed Hanson, losing temper and self-control at the same moment.
“Now yo’s offen yo’ head fo’ sho; ’f’aid yo’s been jinkin’ too f’ee, sah. Now, I ’wises ob yo’ to ’part peaceable, ’fo’ I hab to onchain dat dere wil’ beas’ wot aine got no ’spec’ fo’ nobody, an’ ’ould chaw a ge’man soon as she would a beef bone, an’ ’joy one as much as tudder.”
“To the devil with you and your dog. Go open this door, or it will be the worse for you!”
“Couldn’ do it at no price wotsomever. Now, take my ’wice, sah, an’ go w’ere yo’ got yo’ likker, an’ sleep it off.”
“You impudent fool! What do you mean?” angrily demanded Hanson.
“Now, sah, yo’s c’azy junk! Dere’s no use mincin’ ob de matter; yo’s mad junk. De wil’ way yo’ hab been talkin’ ’bout de youn’ mist’ess bein’ ob yo’ husban’—leastways, I mean yo’ bein’ ob her wife, proobes it. No, sah, take good ’wice, an’ go w’ere yo’ got de likker, an’ s’eep off de ’fec’s ob it.”
“You confounded donkey! Understand that I shall stay here until I shall be admitted into the house I have the right to enter as its master and yours,” said Hanson angrily.
“He’s awful junk,” muttered Pompous to himself, “junker dan I fus’ f’ought. I’ll hab to gib him one good scare ’long o’ Tige!”