“I say, Tim,” said Bob, “you seem to have a jolly place in there.”
“First-rate,” replied Tim, “an’ much the same as your own. I had a good squint at you before you awoke. Isn’t the place splendacious?”
“Yes, Tim, it is. I’ve been lookin’ about all the mornin’ for Adam an’ Eve, but can’t see ’em nowhere.”
“What d’ee mean?”
“Why, that we’ve got into the garden of Eden, to be sure.”
“Oh! stoopid,” returned Tim, “don’t you know that they was both banished from Eden?”
“So they was. I forgot that. Well, it don’t much matter, for there’s a prettier girl than Eve here. Don’t you see her? Martha, I think they called her—down there by the summer-’ouse, feedin’ the hanimals, or givin’ ’em their names.”
“There you go again, you ignorant booby,” said Tim; “it wasn’t Eve as gave the beasts their names. It was Adam.”
“An’ wot’s the difference, I should like to know? wasn’t they both made one flesh? However, I think little Martha would have named ’em better if she’d bin there. What a funny little thing she is!”
“Funny!” returned Tim, contemptuously; “she’s a trump!”