"Well, Betsey, my deear," I heard Cap'n Jack say, "still on yer ould gaame. I hop' we've brok' the spell, my deear. Ted'n vitty, I tell 'ee. A pious man like me do nat'rally grieve over the sins of the flesh. But 'ere's Cap'n Billy Coad; you ain't a spoke to 'ee 'et."
I wished that there had been a hole in the door, for I had a great desire to see Billy Coad, of whom I had heard Cap'n Jack speak so often. I heard his voice, however. It was softer even than Cap'n Jack's, and was of a wheedling tone, as though he wanted to get on comfortably with every one.
"Hope you be braave, Cap'n Billy," croaked Betsey. "Eli, put away this broth; thews booys doan't want none of that soort."
"No, Betsey, it do grieve me, yer nearest blood relation, to zee 'ee follin' in such ways."
"You've bin glad ov me, though," retorted Betsey.
"Iss, you be a gifted woman. You got et from Granfer. He tould 'ee a lot ov things, ded'na then?"
"Mor'n I shell tell."
"Come now, Betsey, laive us be oal comfortable like. You've got your gifts, and I've got mine. I doan't care 'bout sperrits to-night, Betsey; but you've got some good wine—that I knaw. Ah! Cap'n Billy ded some good trade on his laast voyage."
"Good traade," sneered Betsey. "What's your traade nowadays? Zee wot Granfer ded."
"Iss, I've wanted to talk to 'ee 'bout et, Betsey, my deear. I've bin very good to you."