There is a ten-cent piece out there.
Barend.
[Basket of driftwood on his back.] Give it to ’im in his paws then. [Enters.] [Throws down basket with a thud.] Here!
Cob.
Did you hear that impudent boy?
Clem.
Say there, big ape, were you speaking to me?
Bar.
[Shy and embarrassed.] No, Miss. I did not know you were there, I thought——
Cob.