necessary.

"Whey," asked he of his nautical ally, "em I consistent es a cherecter
in bowth phases of my berrowed cowt?"

"I know," chuckled the Captain; "'cause then you had too much slack on
your pins, and now you've got too much pins in your slack, haw! haw!"

"Try egain."

Coristine ventured, "Because then your hands were in your cuffies, but
now your coffee's in your hand." This was hooted down as perfectly
inadmissible, Miss Carmichael asking him how he dared to make such an
exhibition of himself. Mr. Errol was wrestling with something like
Toulouse and Toulon, but could not conquer it. Then the detective said:
"If the ledies will be kind eneugh not to listen, I should enswer,
Before I wes loose in my hebits, end now I em tight."

Of course the Captain applauded, but the lawyer's reprover remarked to
him that she did not think that last at all a nice word. He agreed with
her that it was abominable, that no language was strong enough to
reprobate it, and then they left the table.

There was trouble in the kitchen. Timotheus and Maguffin had each a
Sunday suit of clothes, which they had donned. Sylvanus and Rufus having
special claims on Tryphena, she had put their wet garments in a
favourable place, and, being quite dry, handed them in to her befrilled
brother, early in the morning, through a half open doorway. The
constable, attired in the garb presented to him by Sylvanus, having
fastened his prisoner securely with a second stall chain, entered the
house, and politely but stiffly wished the cook and housemaid "Good
morning." Breakfast was ready, and then the trouble began. Ben had no
clothes, and the boys enjoyed the joke. The company was again a large
one, for Serlizer and Matilda Nagle were added to the feminine part of
it, and the constable and the boy brought its male members up to six,
exclusive of the prostrate Ben. Mr. Terry had temporarily deserted the
kitchen. Mr. Toner's voice could be heard three doors off calling for
Sylvanus, Timotheus, Rufus, Mr. Rigby and Mr. Maguffin. These people
were all smilingly deaf, enjoying their hot breakfast. Then, in despair,
he called Serlizer.

"What's the racket, Ben?"

"My close is sto-ul, Serlizer."

"They's some duds hangin' up here and in the back kitchen to dry. Praps
yourn's there."

"No, Serlizer, myuns never got wayt. You don't think I was sech a blame
fooul as to go out in that there raiun do you?"

"Didn't know but what yer might."

"Whey's