"No, I did not say hilands, I said the 'Ighlands," went on the Cockney. "Hevidently you don't understand good, plain Henglish," and he walked off in disgust.
"The imp, the blithering imp," growled the old gentleman. "May he never come near me again!"
At one of the landings a barrel for use on the boat broke, spilling some fancy flour on the deck. Randy was clearing up the muss when the purser, Peter Polk, came along. Our hero did not witness his approach, and consequently the purser received some dust on his shoes, which had just been polished.
"Hi! hi! Have a care there!" he cried. "What do you mean by covering me with dust?"
"Excuse me, sir," said Randy, hastily. "I didn't see you coming."
"I just had those shoes shined!"
"I am sorry, sir."
"You're the new man, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"You're a blockhead, it seems to me," went on the purser, who was in particularly bad humor that day.