“That’s his Christian name, I suppose?”
“W–w–well, I’m not sure about his bein’ a c–c–c–Christian.”
“Do you spell it T-o-m or T-h-o-m?”
“Th–that depinds on t–t–taste, sor.”
“Bah! you’re a fool!”
“Thank yer honour, and I’m also an I-I-Irish m–man as sure me name’s Flinders.”
“There’s one of your countrymen named Brixton,” said the chief, with a scowl, “who’s a scoundrel of the first water, and I have a crow to pluck with him some day when we meet. Meanwhile I feel half-disposed to give his countryman a sound thrashing as part payment of the debt in advance.”
“Ah! sure, sor, me counthryman’ll let ye off the dibt, no doubt,” returned Flinders.
“Hallo! you seem to have found your tongue all of a sudden!”
“F–faix, then, it’s b–bekaise of yer not houndin’ me on. I c–c–can’t stand bein’ hurried, ye s–see. B–besides, I was havin’ me little j–j–joke, an’ I scarcely sp–splutter at all whin I’m j–j–jokin’.”