“Well!” growled the old man,—“well! And I thought it was him!”
“We’re very sorry we scraped a rock, and made her leak.”
“Made her leak!” roared the old man: “why, she’s spyled, and I shall have to get a new boat.”
“No, she isn’t, Joe: you said it would cost four or five shillings to mend the hole.”
“Eh? Did I?”
“Yes, you did; and Mike and I will give you five shillings to get it done.”
The old man thrust out his great gnarled hand at once for the money.
“We haven’t got it here, Joe,” said Vince; “but we’ll bring it to you to-night. Eh, Mike?”
“Yes; after tea.”
“Honour?”