"Sure that's what I said, sorr! Would you plase tell his honour, Mr. Nando?"
The man looked in amazement from one to another. He seemed to suspect a pitfall, but was puzzled to make out the bearing of the question.
"Sure I speak plain. Did ye, or did ye not, eat a big supper uv anything at all last night?"
"Me eat plenty little manioc," said Nando, thinking he was expected to defend himself against a charge of gluttony. "Me no pig like common black man."
"And you did not get a pain?"—here Barney helped out his meaning with pantomime—"nor dream all that terrible wild stuff you have just been telling us?"
"Me no can dream!" cried Nando, indignantly. "Me say true fings all same."
"Sure, thin, if your supper didn't give ye the nightmare, mine did. Begorra! 'twas a mighty terrible dream I dreamt, indeed, Mr. Nando. I dreamt you was snoring like a pig—like a common black pig, to be sure; and there came a little spalpeen uv a black bhoy, a common black bhoy, and shook ye by the shoulder, and called 'Baa! Baa! Bloko!' and some more I disremimber now; and thin——"
Nando, who had been looking more and more uneasy, here interrupted, hurriedly addressing Mr. Martindale—
"Me plenty sick inside, sah," he said, pressing his hands to the pit of his stomach. "Me eat plenty too much manioc all same."
Crestfallen and abashed the big fellow slunk away, Jack roaring with laughter, Mr. Martindale looking on in speechless amazement.