“No, Jemimar, nothing will ever convince me that there are any savages so depravated as to prefer a slice of ’uman flesh to a good beefsteak, an’ it’s my belief that that himperent Irishman, Larry O’Ale, inwented it all to gammon us.”
“I quite agree with you, Maryhann,” said Jemima, who indeed always agreed with any proposition her friend chose to put forth; “an’ I ’old that it is contrairy to ’uman reason to imagin such beastliness, much less to do it.”
Here Richards had the temerity to observe that he wasn’t quite sure that such things were never done; “for,” said he, “I ’eard Mr Osten himself say as ’ow he’d seen ’em do it, an’ surely he wouldn’t go for to tell a lie.” At which remark Jemima advised him to hold his tongue, and Maryann replied, with an expression of scorn, that she wondered to ’ear ’im. Did he suppose Master Will didn’t sometimes indulge in a little ’armless jesting like other people? She would have added more, but unfortunately the crumbs got into Richards’ throat again, causing that sceptical man to grow red in the face, and give vent to sounds like mild choking.
“’Owever,” observed Jemima, “it don’t matter now, as Mr William and ’is bride are safe ’ome again, and if Mr O’Ale also was fond of a joke, like other people, there is no ’arm in that. Poor fellow, I ’ope ’e’s well, an’ Mr Bunco too, though he is a Red Hindian.”
“’Ear ’ear!” said Richards, suddenly seizing his cup; “let us drink their ’ealth, an’ the ’ealth of all their comrades, for this is the last night of the year, an’ by all accounts they won’t likely be spendin’ it in the midst o’ such comforts an’ blessin’s as we does. Come, lasses, drink it merrily, fill yer glasses, let the teapot circle round.”
The tone in which this proposal was made, and the fact that it was the last night of the year, induced Maryann to respond, with gracious condescension:—
“Well, Richards, I’m agreeable.”
“Here, then,” said Richards, raising his cup on high, “I give you the ’ealth of Mr Larry O’Ale, Mr Bunco, an’ all absent friends—wishin’ ’em luck, an’ lots o’ gold.”
“An’ a ’appy deliverance from these ’orrible countries,” added Maryann.
“I agree with you, Maryhann,” said Jemima, draining her cup to the dregs in honour of the toast.