“What will you give for it?”
“Brother, I am the poor person’s child, I will give you sixpence for the kekaubi.”
“Poor person’s child; how came you by that necklace?”
“Be civil, brother; am I to have the kekaubi?”
“Not for sixpence; isn’t the kettle nicely mended?”
“I never saw a nicer mended kettle, brother; am I to have the kekaubi, brother?”
“You like me then?”
“I don’t dislike you—I dislike no one; there’s only one, and him I don’t dislike, him I hate.”
“Who is he?”
“I scarcely know, I never saw him, but ’tis no affair of yours, you don’t speak Rommany; you will let me have the kekaubi, pretty brother?”