“Well, well, Tom, you do look like a typical Jack in earnest. So you’ve come back to try your luck, have you, again upon land?”
“Yes, siree, to get even with you, Mr. Benson,” replied the sailor. “You lied about me; that I know. Now I am going to see just what you are doing, Mr. George Benson.”
“Well, don’t you monkey in my affairs,” shouted George, “or I will deal with you as I did before. You went from New York because I made it too hot to hold you. Now, be careful.”
“Oh, I suppose you’d like to hurt me all right. I went to see Mr. Benson last night, and they said he was too sick to see anyone.”
“So he is, to see a ragmuffin,” sneered Benson.
“It’s a wonder he harbors you, if he is so very particular,” retorted Tom.
“So you tried to get into the house, did you?”
“Yes, why not? It was my home, the same as yours.”
“Not quite. You always were an interloper, so beware.”
Tom leaned far over and looked keenly at Benson.