“Then I will. Fill for him, Mr. Levitt.”
“I wouldn’t, sir!” answered the landlord; “’e’s ’ad enough, I rackon!”
“’Oo’s ’ad enough?” demanded the red-haired man truculently. “I ain’t never ’ad enough! I never do ’ave enough, no, nor ain’t likely to ’ave enough! An’ if the loikes o’ ’im loikes to treat the loikes o’ me, what’s to prevent?”
“Well, keep a civil tongue to the gen’elman, an’ dannel ye, Jonas Skag!” and Mr. Levitt, setting down the refilled tankard with a bang, stalked away.
“Jonas Skag!” repeated Sir John, eyeing his unlovely companion and shifting nearer to him; “I’ve heard that name before.”
“No, you ain’t!” retorted the other fiercely. “Leastways if y’ave you’ve never ’eard naun but good of it!”
“True,” nodded Sir John; “for you told it me yourself.”
“What—I did?” exclaimed the red-headed man leaning forward to scowl.
“Aye,” answered Sir John, leaning forward also until he might look into the close-set eyes opposite. “You informed me that a more honest man never trod a plank.”
“Well, ’tis true! Honest I be, aye, honest as the day—an’ I’d loike t’ see the man as says I bean’t!” So saying, he lifted the ale to unshaven mouth and drank greedily.