'You don't like my talk!' he returned, rather nettled. 'It's orl right, ain't it? Good enuf ter git on wi' aboard th' ship, any'ow!'
'There you go again!' she pointed out, smiling. 'You say "ain't" instead of "isn't," and "ter" instead of "to," and you drop your h's something horrid.'
'Wot's it matter if I do?' he demanded. 'I ain't—'aven't, I mean—'ad th' hadvantage o' a heddication same as you.'
The girl laughed outright. 'Don't get angry. I'm only telling you for your own good.'
'Orl right!' he retorted with asperity, disengaging his arm from hers; 'if I ain't good enuf for yer we'd best chuck the 'ole show, an' you can go back to yer Mister Parkin—'im wot smells o' 'air-oil!'
'Don't be silly, stupid!' she chided, slipping her arm through his again and squeezing it affectionately. 'You know I don't like him a little bit.'
'You carn't like me, any'ow,' he remarked, bitterly offended.
'Leastways, if yer did yer wouldn't go talkin' the same as yer do.'
'Oh! don't I, indeed? Think I'd go walking out with you, and let you—er—behave as you do, if I wasn't fond of you?'
'Let's 'ave a kiss now,' Pincher suggested, drawing a little closer.