“You may stand on your hands if you like, Billy,” I said, presently.
He eyed me sharply and doubtfully.
“You’re ’avin’ a lark with me,” he said.
“No, I’m not. You really may do it.”
“Ain’t a-goin’ to do it,” replied he, decisively.
“Why not?” I asked.
“T’other bloke ain’t said I’m to do it,” replied he.
“Well,” said I, “if you don’t think he’d like it, don’t do it. For I’m sure he’s very good to you, Billy, isn’t he?”
“’Tain’t no concern of yourn,” responded my genial guardian.
After this there was a long silence, and I was getting drowsy, when Billy said, “That there ’orse was a-goin’ it.”