"G'out! 'Tis jest what us wants."
"You won't never use it."
"We'll hae it out on thy birthday—there! Will that zatisfy thee?"
"Not afore then? I wer born at the end o' the year, an' that's why I al'ays gets lef' behind."
"Not a day before thy birthday! What'll yu be saying if I buys sauces to put in all they bottles?"
"Cut glass, is it?"
"No! What d'yu think?"
"What a woman 'tis! Gie yer Tony a kiss then."
"G'out yu fule!"
The wise fool took a kiss. We had a second supper and hot grog. We were merry. But when I said Good night, I saw in Tony's eyes a recognition that I had understood (so he felt, I think) some part of what he seldom, if ever, brings up now to talk about.