“Yes and no, Punch,” said the lad gravely.
“There you go again! Don’t aggravate a fellow when he is sick and weak. I ain’t a scholar like you, and when you puts it into me with your ‘yes and no’ it makes my head ache. It can’t be yes and no too.”
“Well, Punch,” said Pen, smiling, “it was mine by rights, but I was under age.”
“What’s under age?”
“Not twenty-one.”
“Of course not. You told me months ago that you was only eighteen. Anybody could see that, because you ain’t got no whiskers. But what has that got to do with it?”
“Well, I don’t see why I should tell you all this, Punch, for it’s all about law.”
“But I want to know,” said the boy, “because it’s all about you.”
“Well, it’s like this: my father left my uncle to be executor and my trustee.”
“Oh, I say, whatcher talking about? You said your father was a good un, didn’t you?”