“Why, dwaw something out of haw!”
“Feth! I don’t understan’ yer honner.”
“Not undawstand! yaw are stoopid, Thoms.”
“Keeping yer honner’s company—”
“What, fellaw? keeping my company make yaw stoopid?”
“No, yer honner; ye didn’t hear me out. I was goin’ to say, that keeping yer honner’s company would soon take that out o’ me.”
“Haw—haw—that’s diffwent altogethaw. Well, listen now, and I’ll make yaw undawstand me. I want you to talk with this Yolaw, and dwaw some seek wets out of haw.”
“Oah!” answered Thoms, dwelling a long time upon the syllable, and placing his forefinger along the side of his nose. “Now I comprehend yer honner.”
“All wight—all wight.”
“I’ll manage that, don’t fear me; but what sort of saycrets does yer honner want me to draw out af her?”