“Never. After what has passed, never!”
“Ach! yoush musht not be too revengeful. Mishter Vochan ish a proud man; and I musht say he hash behaved badly—very badly; but still he ish your uncle.”
“He has not acted as such.”
“That ish true—very true—thish fine gentleman you shpeak of—shtill, that ish no reason why Mishter Vochan should treat hish own nephew so shabby. Well, well—I am sorry—exsheedingly sorry. But, Mashter Herbert,” continued the penn-keeper, interrogating his guest with evident interest, “what dosh you intend to do? I supposhe you hash monish of your own?”
“I am sorry to say, Mr Jessuron, I have not.”
“No monish at all!”
“Not a shilling,” affirmed Herbert, with a careless laugh.
“That ish bad. Where dosh you think of going—since you shay you will not return to Mount Welcome?”
“Well,” said Herbert, still preserving his air of jocularity, “I was making for the port again, when your worthy overseer and his friends intercepted me—luckily, I may say: since, but for their intervention, I should in all likelihood have gone without dinner to-day—at all events, I should not have dined so sumptuously.”
“A wretched dinner, Mashter Vochan—a misherable dinner to what your uncle could have given you. I’m but a poor humble man compared with the Cushtos; but what I hash ish at your service any time.”