“Yes, and I’ll give you my knife for it,” said Jack, taking out his great clasp-knife. “It’s a real good one, Jimmy, and I wouldn’t have parted with it for a deal.”
“Jimmy got knife,” said the black, with a contemptuous look. “Jimmy don’t want knife.”
“Well, then, what shall I give you?” said Jack.
“Tickpence,” said he, grinning; “give Jimmy tickpence.”
“Why, what for?” I cried. “What are you going to do with tick pence?”
“Spend um,” said Jimmy; “black fellow spend money, money. Give Jimmy all a tickpence.”
“But there’s nowhere to spend it,” I said.
“Nev mind, Jimmy spend tickpence all a same. Give Jimmy tickpence.”
Jack had not a single coin about him, neither had I, but fortunately the doctor had one, which he handed to Jack, who gave it to the delighted black, and it was forthwith thrust into the pocket of the curtailed trousers, after which he strutted about, leaving the other blacks to perform the duty of dressing the pigs.