The Gentleman-in-Powder (with lofty sarcasm). "No, 'e ain't! Nor a stick, nor a stock, nor yet a chair, nor a table. And, wot's more, 'e ain't one to trouble about the likes o' you, neether."
Timbertoes. "Belay, my lad, and listen. I'm Jerry Tucker, late Bo'sun in 'is Britannic Majesty's navy,—'Bully-Sawyer,' Seventy-four. D'ye get that? Well, now listen again. According to orders I hove anchor and bore up for London very early this morning, but being strange to these 'ere waters, was obleeged to haul my wind and stand off and on till I fell in with a pilot, d'ye see. But, though late, here I am all ship-shape and a-taunto, and with despatches safe and sound. Watch, now!" Hereupon the Bo'sun removed the glazed hat, held it to his hairy ear, shook it, nodded, and from somewhere in its interior took out and held up three letters.
"D'ye see those, my lad?" he inquired.
The Gentleman-in-Powder (haughtily). "I ain't blind!"
Timbertoes. "Why then—you'll know what they are, p'raps?"
The Gentleman-in-Powder (witheringly). "Nor I ain't a fool, neether."
Timbertoes (dubiously). "Ain't you, though?"
The Gentleman-in-Powder (legs again noticeably agitated). "No, I ain't. I've got all my faculties about me."
Timbertoes (shaking head incredulously). "Ah! but where do you stow 'em away?"
The Gentleman-in-Powder (legs convulsed). "And—wot's more, I've got my proper amount o' limbs too!"