“Pshaw! That’s all right for a bluff, Sing, but it won’t go down,” cried Phil. “Come on;––cheer up, and have a drink! This is Christmas time.”
“What you got?” asked Sing, brightening,––“Scotchee whisky?”
“No siree! This is none of your sheebeens,” replied Phil.
“You catchem sam souey?” returned Sing, his voice high and piping. “Sam souey pletty good.”
“No sam souey,––you tough nut! Here!”
Phil handed the Chinaman a bottle of lemonade. Sing’s face fell.
“Ah,––no good! He cleam soda.”
“Well––what’s the matter with it? I suppose you want something with a kick in it.”
“Kick? No savvy kick! Allee same, cleam soda you pullem cork––plup––whee––phizz––he jump out all over and he run allee way down stair before you catchem.