The Doctor (speaking in loud tones which Jefferson cannot ignore): Pick that, please, and that, and those things half-way up that tree.
(Jefferson begins to grow very hot and uneasy. He peeps about nervously, probably with a view to dodging his old friend, the head gardener.)
The Chronicler (feeling that his party is disgracing itself, and desiring to reprove them in a parable): I say, Jefferson, could you cut down that palm—the biggest of those two—and have it sent along to the ship? If the head gardener is here, he might help you.
Jefferson (losing his temper, missing the parable, and turning upon the Chronicler): No, sar! You no hab no more. I’se dam near pulled off ebb’ryting in de ’tanical Garns, an’ I’se goin’ right away now ’fore anyfing’s said!
(Exit Jefferson rapidly, trying to conceal a mass of foliage under his ragged coat. The party follows him in single file.)
[Curtain.]
I doubt not that, had we met the head gardener just then, our guide would have lost a friend.
“‘i’se pulled off ebb’ryting in the ’tanical garns.’”
Henceforth, evidently feeling we were not wholly responsible in this foreign atmosphere of wonders, Jefferson stuck to the streets, and took us to churches and shops and other places where we had to control ourselves and leave things alone.