“No,” growled Andrew; “she said it wass nothing the matter with the callant, and she ought to ket oop and rin apoot.”
“Eh?” cried Watty, rising up so quickly that he knocked his head against the bottom of the next bunk. “The doctor said Andra wass petter as I am, Meester Stevey, an’ she should pe apoot her wairk. She’s ferry well inteet.”
“A lee!” cried Andrew fiercely. “The doctor dinna ken how sair she be. She’s ferry pad, and she’s coing to dee.”
“So we all are, some day, Andra. Come, man, get up, and you, too, Watty.”
“Na, na—na, na,” came with quite a duet of groans. “Oh, I say!” cried Steve. “I know I feel quite as bad and low-spirited as you both do. Come, Watty laddie, it’s horribly dull without you. Get up.”
“She dinna want her, sir, she dinna want her.”
“But I do, Watty, ’pon my word. You and I are the only two boys in the ship, and I miss you. Get up, and you and I’ll stick together all day, and have a good run with Skeny.”
“Do she mean she to want her ferry padly?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then she’ll ket oop,” said the lad with a groan.