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'Golly, but it's 'ot!' said he. 'Cruel 'ot, I call it. Nice d'y to get
your gruel in! I s'y, you know, it must feel awf'ly peculiar to get
bowled over on a d'y like this. I'd rather 'ave it on a cowld and frosty
morning, wouldn't you? (Singing) "'Ere we go round the mulberry bush
on a cowld and frosty mornin'." (Spoken) Give you my word, I 'aven't
thought o' that in ten year; used to sing it at a hinfant school in
'Ackney, 'Ackney Wick it was. (Singing) "This is the way the tyler does,
the tyler does." (Spoken) Bloomin' 'umbug. 'Ow are you off now, for the
notion of a future styte? Do you cotton to the tea-fight views, or the
old red 'ot boguey business?'
'Oh, dry up!' said the captain.
'No, but I want to know,' said Huish. 'It's within the sp'ere of
practical politics for you and me, my boy; we may both be bowled over,
one up, t'other down, within the next ten minutes. It would be rather a
lark, now, if you only skipped across, came up smilin' t'other side,
and a hangel met you with a B. and S. under his wing. 'Ullo, you'd s'y:
come, I tyke this kind.'
The captain groaned. While Huish was thus airing and exercising his
bravado, the man at his side was actually engaged in prayer. Prayer,
what for? God knows. But out of his inconsistent, illogical, and
agitated spirit, a stream of supplication was poured forth, inarticulate
as himself, earnest as death and judgment.
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