“Perhaps so,” replied Ned, with a sigh.
“Massa Easy, you get eberybody out of scrape; you get me out of scrape.”
“I do not recollect how, Mesty.”
“You get me out from boil kettle for young gentlemen—dat devil of scrape.”
“And I’m sure I’ve got you out of a scrape, Mr Oxbelly.”
“How so, Mr Easy?”
“How so!—have I not prevented your quarrelling with your wife every night?”
“Certainly, sir, you have been the means. But, do you know, when we were engaging the other day, I could not help saying to myself, ‘I wish my wife was here now, holding little Billy at the hatchway.’”
“But at night, Mr Oxbelly.”
“At night!—why, then I’m afraid I should have wished her home again—it’s astonishing how comfortable I sleep now every night. Besides, in this climate it would be intolerable. Mrs Oxbelly is a very large woman—very large indeed.”