"According to what you want, master."
"Why, as to that—" I began.
"Because," he went on, administering a particularly vicious kick to the fire, "if you was to ask me for a French hortolon—or even the 'ump of a cam-el—being a very truthful man, I should say—no."
"But I want no such things," said I.
"And 'ow am I to know that—'ow am I to know as you ain't set your 'eart on the 'ump of a cam-el?"
"I tell you I want nothing of the sort," said I, "a chop would do—"
"Chop!" sighed the man, scowling threateningly at the fire, "chop!"
"Or steak," I hastened to add.
"Now it's a steak!" said the man, shaking his head ruefully, and turning upon me a doleful eye, "a steak!" he repeated; "of course—it would be; I s'pose you'd turn up your nose at 'am and eggs—it's only to be expected."
"On the contrary," said I, "ham and eggs will suit me very well; why couldn't you have mentioned them before?"