As he spoke he refilled the mug and handed it to Don, who took it mechanically, and placed it to his lips, one drop suggesting another till he had finished the cup.
“Now a bit o’ bread and butter, Mas’ Don?”
Don shook his head, but took the top piece, and began mechanically to eat, while Jem partook of another cup, there being a liberal allowance of some three pints.
“That’s the way, sir. Wonderful what a difference breakfuss makes in a man. Eat away, sir; and if they don’t look out we’ll give them press-gang.”
“Yes, but how, Jem? How?”
“Lots o’ ways, sir. We’ll get away, for one thing, or fasten that there trap-door down; and then they’ll be the prisoners, not us. ’Nother cup, sir? Go on with the bread and butter. I say, sir, do I look lively?”
“Lively?”
“I mean much knocked about? My face feels as if the skin was too tight, and as if I couldn’t get on my hat.”
“It does not matter, Jem,” said Don, quietly. “You have no hat.”
“More I haven’t. I remember feeling it come off, and it wasn’t half wore out. Have some more coffee, Mas’ Don. ’Tarnt so good as my Sally makes. I’d forgot all about her just then. Wonder whether she’s eating her breakfast?”