"A—what?" The Spider halted under a lamp-post to stare at Ravenslee a little anxiously. "Say, now, take a holt of ye'self an' jest put that one over th' plate again—you need a—what?"
"Another chauffeur."
"Another shuvver—another? Bo, y' didn't happen t' get a soak on th' bean just now, did ye?"
"No."
"Well, then, I guess you're some shook up; what you want's food, right now!"
"Why, yes, now you mention it, I'm devilish hungry," agreed Ravenslee.
"Leave it t' me, bo—I know a chewin'-joint close by—soup, joint, sweets, an' coffee an' only a quarter a throw—some feed, bo! Shin right along, I'll—"
"No, you shall come home and dine with me."
"Home?" repeated the Spider, halting to stare again; "you're sure talkin' ramblin'—"
"We can discuss the chauffeur's job then—"