“Oh, that’s right, is it, Master Vince? That’s what you thinks,” said the old fisherman.
“But you’ll lend it to us, won’t you?”
“Nay, my lad—I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Why?” said Daygo, beginning to rasp his nose, according to custom, with his rough forefinger. “He says why? Mebbe you’d lose her.”
“No, we wouldn’t, Joe.”
“Mebbe you’d run her on the rocks.”
“Nonsense!—just as if we don’t know where the rocks are. Know ’em nearly as well as you do.”
Daygo chuckled.
“Oh, come, Joe, don’t be disagreeable. We’ll take plenty of care of it, and pay you what you like.”