"Stop, fool!" hissed Ferguson. "Wouldst bring danger on us? We know not who may be in earshot of such owlish screeching! Art clean daft?"
"Nay, only wondrous happy," answered Ammon.
"Yes, and why?" growled Ferguson. "Because, like Shylock, thou hast claimed thy pound of flesh?"
"Yea, verily, and got it; which is much more to the point."
"Yes, got it," quoth the chaplain bitterly. "Wrung it from me like the clutching Jew you are. Let that suffice, and add not gibe to injury."
"Ah, no! was ever miser yet who could bear parting with his gold, no matter how it had been earned?" sighed Ammon mockingly.
"The devil take thee!"
"Nay, I am his already--thanks to thee, most godly chaplain."
"Provoke me not too far," hissed Ferguson. "I am not to be trifled with. You know me well, friend Ammon."
"Yes, verily, I know you far too well."