"No, sir, that can't he. I haven't got a clean shirt."
"You can have a shirt of mine," I said. "But I'm afraid you'll want your Sunday clothes."
"I'll bring them for you, Joe—before you're up," interposed Harry. "And then you can go to church with Aggy Coombes, you know."
Here was just what I wanted.
"Hold your tongue, Harry," said Joe angrily. "You're talking of what you don't know anything about."
"Well, Joe, I ben't a fool, if I ben't so religious as you be. You ben't a bad fellow, though you be a Methodist, and I ben't a fool, though I be Harry Cobb."
"What do you mean, Harry? Do hold your tongue."
"Well, I'll tell you what I mean first, and then I'll hold my tongue. I mean this—that nobody with two eyes, or one eye, for that matter, in his head, could help seeing the eyes you and Aggy make at each other, and why you don't port your helm and board her—I won't say it's more than I know, but I du say it to be more than I think be fair to the young woman."
"Hold your tongue, Harry."
"I said I would when I'd answered you as to what I meaned. So no more at present; but I'll be over with your clothes afore you're up in the morning."