"You aren't d-drunk, are you?"
"No," said Barnabas, "nor are you, for once."
Barrymaine clenched his fists and took a step towards Barnabas, but spying the bargeman, who now lurched forward, turned upon him in a fury.
"What the d-devil d' you want? Get out of the way, d' ye hear?—get out, I say!"
"Axing your pardon, sir, an' meaning no offence, but summat was said about a bob, sir—vun shilling!"
"Damnation! Give the fellow his s-shilling, Dig, and then k-kick him out."
Hereupon Mr. Smivvle, having felt through his pockets, slowly produced the coin demanded, and handing it to the bargeman, pointed to the door.
"No,—see him downstairs—into the street, Dig. And you needn't hurry back, I'm going to speak my mind to this f-fellow—once and for all! So l-lock the street door, Dig."
Mr. Smivvle hesitated, glanced at Barnabas, shrugged his shoulders and followed the bargeman out of the room. As the door closed, Barrymaine sprang to it, and, turning the key, faced Barnabas with arms folded, head lowered, and a smile upon his lips:
"Now," said he, "you are going to listen to me—d'you hear? We are going to understand each other before you leave this room! D'you see?"