“Vell! here’s a precious go!”
I looked up, and saw that the voice and hand belonged to the same person—a short, stout man, with sallow complexion and glistening black eyes. His dress was a curious compound of broad, glazed hat and blue shift of a sailor and the flashy check vest and pantaloons of a peddler.
“Vere did you come from, anyhow,” he demanded, before I had finished my survey, “a-busting down on a chap vithout varning, and a smashing of his pots and kettles?”
“Pots and kettles?” I repeated, inquiringly.
For answer he pointed indignantly to the ground, and then I saw what damage my descent had caused.
A rusty coffee-pot, a little dish and a skillet were scattered among the embers of the fire.
“That’s vot you did,” said he, resentfully. “Here vos I, a-cooking my supper and a-thinking of just nothink at all, when all of a suddent down you come, like a cannon-ball, and avay goes everythink! It was werry aggerwating because it was nearly done.”
“I assure you, sir,” said I, very contritely, “that I had no intention of falling on your fire or your supper.”
Then I explained the cause of my sudden descent, and wound up by offering to pay for the damage.
By this time the man had entirely recovered his temper—if he had ever lost it, which I very much doubt—and smiled kindly.