“How are ye, yourself?” replied the man, rather gruffly.
“Do you keep a hotel?” demanded Tom, who concealed the anxiety of his heart under a broad grin.
“I reckon I don’t. What do you want here?”
“I want something to eat,” replied Tom, proceeding to business with commendable straight-forwardness.
“We hain’t got nothin’ here,” said the man, sourly. “That ain’t what ye come fur, nuther.”
“Must have something to eat. I’m not very particular, but I must have something.”
“You can’t hev it ’bout yere, no how. That ain’t what ye come fur, nuther.”
“If you know what I came for better than I do, suppose you tell me what it is,” added Tom, who was a little mystified by the manner of the man.
“You air one of them soger fellers, and you want me to ’list; but I tell yer, ye can’t do nothin’ of the sort. I’ll be dog derned if I’ll go.”
“I don’t want you to go,” protested Tom. “I’m half starved and all I want is something to eat.”