with that fallar, no.

ANNA--I been back on board every night by eleven, ain't I? [Then struck
by some thought--looks at him with keen suspicion--with rising anger.]
Say, look here, what d'you mean by what you yust said?

CHRIS--[Hastily.] Nutting but what Ay say, Anna.

ANNA--You said "ain't right" and you said it funny. Say, listen here,
you ain't trying to insinuate that there's something wrong between us,
are you?

CHRIS--[Horrified.] No, Anna! No, Ay svear to God, Ay never tank dat!

ANNA--[Mollified by his very evident sincerity--sitting down again.]
Well, don't you never think it neither if you want me ever to speak to
you again. [Angrily again.] If I ever dreamt you thought that, I'd get
the hell out of this barge so quick you couldn't see me for dust.

CHRIS--[Soothingly.] Ay wouldn't never dream--[Then, after a second's
pause, reprovingly.] You vas gatting learn to svear. Dat ain't nice for
young gel, you tank?

ANNA--[With a faint trace of a smile.] Excuse me. You ain't used to
such language, I know. [Mockingly.] That's what your taking me to sea
has done for me.

CHRIS--[Indignantly.] No, it ain't me. It's dat damn sailor fallar
learn you bad tangs.

ANNA--He ain't a sailor. He's a stoker.

CHRIS--[Forcibly.] Dat vas million times vorse, Ay tal you! Dem fallars
dat vork below shoveling coal vas de dirtiest, rough gang of no-good
fallars in vorld!

ANNA--I'd hate to hear you say that to Mat.

CHRIS--Oh, Ay tal him same tang. You don't gat it in head Ay'm scared
of him yust 'cause he vas stronger'n Ay vas. [Menacingly.] You don't
gat for fight with fists with dem fallars. Dere's oder vay for fix him.

ANNA--[Glancing at him with sudden alarm.] What d'you mean?

CHRIS--[Sullenly.] Nutting.

ANNA--You'd better not. I wouldn't start no trouble with him if I was
you. He might forget some time that you was old and my father--and then
you'd be out of luck.

CHRIS--[With smouldering hatred.] Vell, yust let him! Ay'm ole bird
maybe, but Ay bet Ay show him trick or two.

ANNA--[Suddenly changing her tone--persuasively.] Aw come on, be good.
What's eating you, anyway? Don't you want no one to be nice to me
except yourself?

CHRIS--[Placated--coming to her--eagerly.] Yes, Ay do, Anna--only not
fallar on sea. But Ay like for you marry steady fallar got good yob on
land. You have little home in country all your own--

ANNA--[Rising to her feet--brusquely.] Oh, cut it out! [Scornfully.]
Little home