“Say, Master Aleck, you says to me just now with a sign like as I’d been having a drop o’ rum. Well, I arn’t; but, you’ll scuse me, sir, have you happened to call and see anyone as has given you some cake and wine as was rather too strong for a hot sunny day like this?”
“No!” roared Aleck, in a thorough passion now. “Such insolence! Say again that I threw a weight of paper and broke a hole through her.”
“Well, sir, I see your shadder.”
“You did not, for I’ve not been back till just now.”
“Then it was somebody else’s, sir.”
“Somebody else’s, sir!” cried Aleck, scornfully. “Own at once that you had an accident with her.”
“Me say that?” cried Tom, waxing angry in turn. “I won’t. I’d do a deal for you, Master Aleck, and if I’d stove in the boat I’d up and say so; but I arn’t a-going to tell an out-an’-out wunner like that to screen you when you’ve had an accident. Why, if I did you’d never trust me again.”
“I never will trust you again, sir. But, there, what’s to be done? How am I to get back to the Den? Would a plug of oakum keep the water out?”
“Would a plug o’ my grandmother keep the water out?” growled Tom, scornfully. “Why, she couldn’t keep it out if we set her in it. I jest got one peep, and then the water hid it, but there’s a hole pretty nigh big enough for you to go through.”
“My poor boat!” cried Aleck, in agony. “But, there, it’s of no use to cry after spilt milk. What’s to be done?”